


the wild youth

by chisomo



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1970s, Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff and Angst, Historical References, M/M, Viva La Revolution, War, basically an anti-Vietnam war protesters AU but in Korea, but also wild historical inaccuracy, cigarettes bc it's the seventies, fuck the government, leather jackets!, younghyun is jisung's brother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:33:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 36,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24281371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chisomo/pseuds/chisomo
Summary: Han Jisung knows three truths:1) War is hell.2) Lee Minho is dangerous.3) He can't stay away from either one."we are the reckless, we are the wild youth."
Relationships: (last one is more minor), Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Hwang Hyunjin/Kim Seungmin, Lee Felix/Seo Changbin
Comments: 264
Kudos: 355





	1. contradictions

**Author's Note:**

> Revolution, especially revolution carried out by young people, has always fascinated me. I’ve wanted to combine that idea with stray kids since I first listened to district 9 (April 2018…it’s been a minute), so here’s one iteration of that. 
> 
> In case the tags don’t make it clear, this fic is loosely based off the anti-Vietnam War protests in the US in the seventies, which happened on a ton of college campuses. But it’s still set in 1970s Korea, and since Korea wasn’t fighting any wars at that time, I’m not going to use real historical details about the war. If you’re curious, though, South Korea actually did have a ton of student protests at that time against the dictator Park Chunghee; so I’m going to incorporate details from that as much as I can as well. Also we’re gonna have a lot more casual gayness than would be acceptable in 1970s Korea but I don't give a single fuck (: 
> 
> Okay, pretty sure nobody cared about that. I wanted to put it there just in case ppl started coming for me about historical accuracy lmao but yeah I’m taking on a historical AU at last!! as usual there will be angst but I’m gonna work fluff in there too! lmk what yall think

Han Jisung was not a pacifist.

He’d always been a little too combative, enough that it got him in trouble a few times. A pacifist would never have punched that kid in sixth grade for snapping Jisung’s glasses on purpose.

Honestly, what else had he been supposed to do? His fucking _glasses_ , man.

Anyways—not a pacifist.

But sitting on his dorm bed and staring at a letter from his older brother in his hands, Jisung thought the pacifists were right about one thing. There was nothing that justified war.

It was just hell, a hell that humans created and threw themselves into for no reason.

He wondered why people needed to believe in Satan when all they had to do was look in the mirror.

Younghyun’s letters were always short, peppered with teasing comments about Jisung’s nerdiness and overdramatic complaints about the lack of available dating in the military. Sometimes he asked Jisung about music, a shared love of theirs. He never wrote about the fighting, about what it was like to watch his friends die around him.

The letters always ended the same way: “Everything’s the same here. Don’t worry. I’m going to be okay, Sungie.”

Jisung bit his lip, almost crumpling the letter as he curled into himself on the bed. The sun was setting outside the window, casting the room in golden light. Here he was; sitting in a peaceful dorm room while his brother fought for his life in a war that meant nothing.

A tear slid down his cheek without warning, and Jisung scrubbed at it furiously. Crying would do nothing to help Younghyun—and yet, it felt like crying was the only thing he could do.

He had just managed to stem the flow of tears when he heard a knock on the door.

Praying his eyes weren’t too red and puffy, Jisung opened the door to find two familiar faces staring back at him. Dark brown curls and darker brown eyes on one side, and a pitch-black undercut and a hooded gaze on the other: Chan and Changbin. Jisung felt relief filter through him; he couldn’t quite handle the presence of anyone else but his friends right now.

“What’s up?” he greeted them, mustering a weak smile.

Chan and Changbin instantly frowned in unison at Jisung’s expression, and their eyes fell to the letter Jisung was still holding tightly. They looked back up at him with understanding in their eyes. Jisung would’ve laughed at how in sync they were, if he weren’t still swallowing back the lump in his throat.

“Another letter from your brother?” Chan asked, tone softening just a bit.

Jisung nodded but didn’t expand. They knew about Younghyun already; there was no reason to keep crying to them about something none of them could change.

“Are you going to stand there forever?” he teased instead, hoping to lift the worry from their features.

Chan and Changbin exchanged a serious glance, and Jisung narrowed his eyes in suspicion. They were going to try to talk him into doing something; he could already tell.

“Well, Chan knows someone who’s starting an anti-war…thing,” Changbin said at last. “We were going to go to the first meeting now, if you want to come?”

Chan jumped in, “I know you hate groups of new people, which is why I didn’t tell you sooner so you wouldn’t have a chance to think about it too much.”

He eyed the letter in Jisung’s hand. “But we think you should come, if you want to. It might make you feel better.”

Jisung swallowed hard. “An anti-war thing? Like a club?”

Changbin smirked. “If calling it a club makes you feel better, sure. It’s just a group of people who want to do something about this shitshow they’re calling a war.”

Jisung glanced down at the letter in spite of himself.

_War is hell—_

_I’m going to be okay, Sungie._

He looked up to meet their gazes. “Fine. Let’s go.”

The walk across campus seemed to take longer than usual, Chan spouting off a list of other people he knew were going to be there as Changbin and Jisung pretended to listen. The younger two had long grown used to Chan knowing absolutely everyone on campus, and had given up on keeping up with him.

Jisung could already feel the first hints of anxiety filtering through his veins at the thought of a bunch of new people, but—he knew this was something he had to do. Something he needed to do.

And that was how he reassured himself as Chan ushered him and Changbin into a nondescript classroom on the second floor of the chemistry building. According to Chan, the chemistry building had been chosen as the meeting place because the chemistry program at their university was so shitty that “no one ever goes in there.”

Except for tonight, apparently.

Jisung felt his body freeze once he was inside the classroom, looking over the bustling mass of students crowded into the room.

_So many people, fuck…_

Changbin’s hand wrapped around Jisung’s arm, and he let himself be tugged to a cluster of empty chairs on one end of the room. They were sitting down before he knew it, Jisung’s wide eyes still taking in the sheer number of students around them.

Chan was swept into a conversation immediately, Jisung losing sight of the older boy after a few moments. He pressed against the leather jacket hugging Changbin’s solid frame next to him, grateful for his friend’s presence.

“Damn, this is more people than I expected,” Changbin said excitedly. “This is good.”

Jisung just nodded, beginning to relax as he got used to the environment. Chan returned a while later, eyes bright and smile wide in the way that meant he was _on._ Right now, he was the Bang Chan who excelled at whatever he did, who made friends as easily as breathing.

Jisung knew this Chan, but he knew the other Chan just as well. The one who preferred to cry alone, who struggled to get a full night’s sleep, who could spend an entire day locked up in the music studio.

They existed together, and Jisung cared about both fiercely.

“I think they’re about to start,” Chan murmured, tearing Jisung from his thoughts.

The dull roar of the crowd muted to low whispers as people sat down around them, leaving Jisung with a perfect view of the podium at the front of the classroom for the first time.

His breath caught.

_Holy shit—_

Three students Jisung had never seen before stood at the front. The one in the center was the kind of attractive you couldn’t ignore, all gleaming black hair and creamy porcelain skin as he smiled brightly at the students. The boy to his right was also hard to miss, blond hair shining under the fluorescent lights and starry freckles dotting his nose and cheeks.

_“Shit,”_ Jisung heard Changbin mutter next to him.

And normally he would’ve teased Changbin, but the last boy—the one closest to them—was drawing every ounce of Jisung’s attention.

Messy brown hair threaded with gold, delicate features and glimmering, cat-like eyes. A lean, strong frame— _shit shit shit_. He looked far less clean-cut than his two counterparts; tight denim jeans hugged his long legs instead of the standard slacks, and his hair was just tousled enough to push the limit of what was considered proper.

He was devastating.

And when he lifted his chin to cast a piercing gaze around the room, Jisung felt his heart stop.

A delicate face with eyes that could cut you right open—this boy was such a pretty contradiction.

_Shit._

“Welcome, everyone!”

Jisung was startled from his wildly spiraling gay thoughts by the first boy bending down to speak into the microphone. Jisung pouted—of course the model-looking guy was tall, too.

“My name’s Hwang Hyunjin,” he continued, before pointing to his right then his left. “This is Lee Felix, and this is Lee Minho. No, they’re not related…or married, lucky enough for the rest of you,” he finished with a wink.

The crowd chuckled dutifully, Jisung barely even registering the joke as his eyes locked on the last boy once more.

_Lee Minho Lee Minho Lee Minho—_

“We’re the ones who decided to hold this event, but we want to make it clear that we’re not the sole leaders,” Hyunjin continued, tone growing more serious. “Everyone should have an active part in decisions. We’re not the current government of the ‘Republic’ of South Korea, so we do want to actually discuss things instead of suppressing all opposing opinions.”

There were a few shouts of agreement at the dig, and Jisung suppressed a smile. So this was how it was going to be.

“But yeah, basically, if you’re wondering what the heck you just stumbled into, this is the beginning of the anti-war movement at our university,” Hyunjin grinned, his eyes taking on an almost dangerous sheen. “Our school supports the same government that is fucking up this country with a shitty war, and we’re here because we want to do something about that.”

The crowd cheered, and Jisung found himself clapping along. He had to admit—there was something magnetizing about Hyunjin, about all three of them.

Felix stepped over to speak into the microphone. “As Hyunjin said, we’re here to do something about the war. More and more students are protesting across South Korea, and we can get the university’s attention if we do this right. That means we need to start now.”

His voice was surprisingly deep, with an accent that had Chan stiffening beside Jisung in surprise. Changbin let out a tiny, defeated groan on Jisung’s other side, and he smirked at the other boy’s pain.

The grin quickly fell from his face when Minho stepped up to the podium next.

Minho let silence fall, grinning at the crowd for a moment before speaking. “I think we should aim high. Posters and petitions are fine, and definitely things we should start with, but I want to do something big. I think we should start planning a rally, held right on campus.”

Whispers of excitement and surprise broke out over the crowd, as Jisung stared in shock.

He’d seen the shade of recklessness in Minho’s features from the beginning. But now, the older boy’s eyes were filled something more—something dangerous. A hunger to fight.

Lee Minho was not a pacifist either. Not in the least.

Glimmering eyes swept over the crowd in satisfaction, a smile curling at one corner of Minho’s perfectly bowed lips.

_Pretty contradictions—_

And that was the moment Jisung realized he was totally fucked.

The rest of the meeting passed by in a blur—Hyunjin, Felix, and Minho leading the discussion until people were comfortable enough to start shouting out suggestions. Plans were made to start a student referendum calling for the university to stop support of the government.

For a group of students tied together by nothing but their hatred for the war, it was going pretty well, in Jisung’s opinion. But then the subject of flyers came up…and that was when things sort of went to shit.

They’d only been brainstorming what to put on flyers for a bit before one student—a tall, burly sort of guy who looked to be a junior—stood up and suggested they do something about the soldiers.

“I don’t think flyers would do anything…I think we should protest the soldiers right at the gates of their base,” the student said fiercely. “This war is murder. They need to know what they’re complicit in!”

Jisung’s chest tightened painfully.

There were a few claps of agreement, a couple other students standing up to shout their approval.

“They’re practically killers!” shouted a girl with tight braids.

_Killers—_

An image of Younghyun flashed in Jisung’s mind, his older brother smiling at him with kind eyes just before he turned to leave for the military base. He had ruffled Jisung’s hair in the way he knew the younger hated, trying to get Jisung to stop crying.

It hadn’t worked.

_I’m going to be okay, Sungie—_

Jisung’s chest tightened further, cutting off his breathing. He felt Chan’s arm come up to wrap around his shoulders, but the older boy didn’t say anything. Jisung’s gaze snapped to the front of the room, where Minho was frowning.

“Well, okay…let’s think about this,” Minho said finally. “Do you think it’s possible for us to protest at the base without getting arrested before we even get to the gates? And if they’re soldiers at the base, they’ve already made their decision. It’d be better to target people who have been drafted and are deciding whether or not they should go still.”

Hyunjin and Felix nodded in agreement, voicing their approval, and that seemed to appease the rest of the students as well.

The ache in Jisung’s chest lessened at this. He refused to ever call his brother—endlessly patient, playful Younghyun—a killer.

But then Minho grinned wickedly. “And we can make flyers about that. No matter what the university administration or Park Chunghee tries to tell us, we still have freedom of speech.”

He pretended to think, mischief gleaming in his gaze. “Hmmm...how’s this for a slogan: ‘Use your brain, not your fucking draft card.’”

Snickers and applause sounded throughout the room, and Jisung felt a spark of anger for the first time. Just who did they think they were? They were all college students, exempt from the draft. They had no idea what it was like.

Minho was chuckling too, pretty eyes crinkled in amusement and pretty lips smiling—and Jisung would be melting if he weren’t so annoyed.

Another student stood up, a dark smirk twisting his lips. “How about: ‘Brains not bombs’? Teach them to study so they can get real jobs instead of relying on blood money from the military.”

And that was when Jisung snapped.

He was on his feet before he knew it.

The room fell silent after a few moments, and _fuck—_ suddenly everyone’s eyes were on him. But all Jisung could really feel was Minho’s gaze on him for the first time, burning him with its intensity.

_Oh god._

Jisung felt himself grip the hem of his shirt, filled suddenly with the irrational wish that he’d worn something nicer than the oversized T-shirt and slacks he’d thrown on that morning.

But it was too late now. He was standing in front of an entire classroom of people, and he had no idea what to say, and fuck the silence had gone on too long—

“Something to add?” came Minho’s smooth voice at last.

Jisung’s gaze snapped to Minho’s, and their eyes locked for a second before Jisung turned away quickly. There was no going back now.

He swallowed hard, and then began to speak. “Just…I think it’s important to remember that we’re not protesting against the soldiers, but the war they’re fighting.”

Jisung paused, trying to remember how to breathe. The silence stretched on for a horrible moment before he managed to continue. “The rich corporations and the government are benefitting from the war, not the soldiers. They’re the ones whose lives have been upended, who…who are getting killed.”

Silence filled the room once more as Jisung finished, and his gaze flitted back to Minho’s before he could help it. Minho was staring at him, head tilted slightly. His gaze was…calculating. Electrifying.

Jisung was pinned under its weight.

“But if all the soldiers refused to fight, there would be no war,” Minho said slowly.

Jisung grabbed hold of the anger still filtering through him, and used its strength to respond directly to Minho. “They don’t have a choice,” he said fiercely. “Most soldiers in the war right now are working class, poor kids who don’t have the privilege of college to get out of the draft, or money to pay off the army officers. And they certainly can’t fucking afford to hide in Russia like some people do.”

He took a deep breath. Minho’s eyes had widened, every inch of his attention on Jisung. It was…pretty hot, honestly. Jisung forced himself to remember that Minho thought of his brother as a killer, and forged on.

“The soldiers are victims of this war, too,” he finished. “We shouldn’t forget that.”

An even longer silence followed that. Jisung swallowed hard, feeling as though the world might have stopped around him.

And then Minho spoke again. This time, his tone was low with a cold fury. “Victims? Those victims have shot and killed hundreds of thousands of people in this war.”

_Killers—_

_Younghyun-hyung, please don’t go—_

Jisung clenched his fists. “You don’t know what it’s like!” he burst out.

“Neither do you!” Minho responded hotly, composure slipping as his eyes flashed.

Jisung opened his mouth to retort—but suddenly Hyunjin was jumping to his feet and clapping to get their attention.

“All good points! Why don’t we table this discussion and focus on the referendum?” he said, smiling winningly. “That needs to happen first anyways.”

Tension seeped out of the room as everyone’s attention turned to Hyunjin, and Jisung felt his legs weaken as he let himself fall back into his seat.

Minho’s gaze burned him for a few more moments before the older boy turned to Hyunjin at last.

“Are you okay, Jisung?” came Changbin’s worried whisper, and all Jisung could do was nod.

Had he really just started a fight with the prettiest and most dangerous man he had ever seen? Yes—yes, he had.

_Fuck._

He could still feel the heat of Minho’s gaze on his skin. The fire in those eyes…it was mesmerizing. Beautiful enough to lure you in, dangerous enough to burn if you got too close.

_A pretty contradiction._


	2. the first flame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can already tell my worldbuilding for this fic is gonna be pretty shit but idc! I want to write more minsung scenes fraught with sexual tension! this one is a little slow but things are gonna speed tf up in the next update (: and I promise seungmin and jeongin will show up very soon!
> 
> Also, I’ve had this chapter written for a couple days and I almost didn’t upload it because of what’s going on in america. Since I am uploading it, I’ll say this: I encourage anyone reading to protest what’s happening and to support black people. Sign the petitions. Donate to the funds if you can. Spread the word.

“Oh my _god_.”

Jisung slumped backwards, shutting his eyes tightly and groaning.

“What? What’s wrong?” Changbin sat up beside him and looked around in confusion.

The two were sprawled at the base of their favorite oak tree on campus, books lying around haphazardly as they pretended to study. In reality, they had spent most of their time bickering over music and occasionally sharing cigarettes.

But the peace of the unusually warm fall day had just been ruined.

Jisung shook his head pitifully, opening his eyes just enough to catch another glance of— _goddamnit_.

It was Lee Minho.

Hyunjin and Felix were with him, the three strolling across the quad in front of them. Jisung could only pray they wouldn’t see him and Changbin. They seemed caught up in their conversation anyways, Hyunjin and Felix laughing as Minho smirked in the way that meant he’d told a joke.

(Not that Jisung had compiled all his expressions from watching him at the club meeting last week or anything.)

God, but would it kill them to not look so perfect all the time?

Changbin drew in a breath beside him. “Oh.”

Jisung turned to see Changbin was looking at the three as well, tucking the unlit cigarette he had been holding behind one ear as he focused on them completely.

“The big three,” Changbin said half-mockingly, half-admiringly.

Jisung drew his knees up to his chest, resting his chin on them as he watched the three figures sit down next to each other on a bench that was far too near to their oak tree for comfort.

“What the hell are they doing here?” he muttered angrily.

Changbin snorted, looking over at Jisung. “Pretty sure they go to school here, idiot.”

Jisung just stuck his tongue out at Changbin, not bothering to think of a comeback.

“What was that, at the meeting last week?” Changbin asked after moment, tone turning serious. “The whole argument…we never really talked about it.”

Jisung sighed, plucking at a loose thread in his jeans. “I just—you know about Younghyun-hyung. I couldn’t sit there and let them all…shit-talk him like that.”

He lifted his head to send a glare in Minho’s direction. The older boy was still happily chatting with Felix and Hyunjin on the bench, looking less like a force of nature and more like an ordinary student in the sunlight.

He was still hot, though. How unfair.

“And I was right, you know,” Jisung continued. “They don’t know what it’s like—no one on this campus does, because being a college student gets you out of the draft. Younghyun didn’t have that option. It’s a miracle that _I’m_ here on scholarship and not getting shot somewhere.”

Changbin nodded. “I know. And I agree with you…but you gotta admit that Lee Minho has a point, too. How if everyone refused to fight and all that.”

Jisung let out a long exhale, eyes still locked on Minho.

“Yeah. It was just hard, hearing what they were saying,” he admitted softly. “I miss him so much, hyung.”

Changbin looked over at him, concern and sympathy mixing in his gaze. “I know you do, Sung.”

He reached over and squeezed an arm around Jisung’s shoulders, letting it rest there until Jisung gave him a grateful nod and straightened. They let the silence wash over them for a moment, oak leaves fluttering above them and sunlight warming their backs.

Changbin plucked the cigarette from behind his ear and lit it with a practiced hand. He drew one long puff and exhaled a cloud of smoke before speaking.

“Fuck me if he isn’t the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said wistfully, staring over at the three boys.

Jisung gaped at Changbin. So he wasn’t the only one who was affected by how attractive Minho was, then. It was almost a relief—but he wasn’t about to admit it.

“Uhhh…what do you mean?” Jisung asked, tone shooting for nonchalant but landing on slightly panicked. “I wouldn’t know anyways! Because I don’t really—which is to say that, I mean…I hadn’t noticed?”

Changbin graciously made no comment on Jisung’s behavior, instead gesturing helplessly at the bench. “Just like…his hair looks so soft and his freckles are adorable and… _god_ , his voice. Like—how is that even possible? And why does it only make him cuter?”

He sighed longingly, taking another drag of his cigarette as Jisung stared at him in realization. Changbin was talking about Lee Felix, not Minho.

He pretended not to feel the strange relief filtering through him, and snickered instead. Teasing Changbin about his endless crushes was one of his favorite pastimes.

Changbin was so earnest in his affection for people—he loved fiercely and often. But when it came to romantic love, he was hopeless at moving beyond crushing on them from a distance.

“You sappy fucker,” he teased with a grin. “You’ve only met him once at the club—and that was barely a meeting! You just said ‘Seo Changbin’ when he asked your name and ran away.”

Changbin groaned, spots of pink appearing on his cheeks. “I’m weak for cute people, okay?”

“Aigoo, but Binnie-hyung is the cutest!” Jisung squealed mockingly, pinching Changbin’s cheeks as the older boy tried to bat him away in vain.

They half-wrestled each other for a minute, ending up sprawled next to each other in the grass as they giggled. Jisung rolled into a sitting position after a while, brushing grass from his clothes as Changbin did the same next to him.

“Hey loser, you got leaves in your hair,” Changbin said, tugging Jisung towards him to gently comb through his hair.

Jisung let himself be cleaned up before he sat upright—just in time to catch Minho’s gaze on him.

His heart stopped.

Minho was still sitting on the bench with Hyunjin and Felix, but he was no longer paying attention to their conversation. Instead, his gaze was lighting Jisung on fire as their eyes locked for a few terrifyingly long seconds.

He vaguely wondered if Minho was plotting to murder him, for arguing with the older in the middle of their first ever meeting. His gaze was certainly deadly enough.

Jisung felt himself getting hotter under the weight of Minho’s attention, desperately telling himself it was only because Minho made him angry and not for—other reasons.

But then Minho was looking away and turning back to Hyunjin and Felix as if nothing had happened. Jisung let a shaky breath rattle through his chest before turning back to Changbin, who was busy straightening his precious leather jacket.

“And don’t think I didn’t see you and Minho…well, whatever you two were doing at the meeting,” Changbin said absently, continuing their earlier conversation.

Jisung looked at him in shock. “The hell do you mean? We were just arguing.”

Changbin gave Jisung a disbelieving look. “Yeah, right—like there wasn’t enough sexual tension to choke me.”

Jisung gasped, cheeks coloring immediately. “What— _no_! You’re completely delusional.”

Changbin snorted, tucking his pack of cigarettes back into his chest pocket. “Okay, Sung.”

Jisung hmphed, choosing to ignore Changbin’s lunacy for the time being. “Whatever, let’s just get out of here. I need to study for real, this time.”

And that was true…but also Jisung didn’t think he could handle Minho’s gaze on him again. He might do something stupid next time—like punch Minho…or _talk_ to him, or something.

Or something.

The trouble was—Jisung kept seeing Minho. Everywhere.

He appeared in the library when Jisung was trying to study, looking stupidly attractive in a beat-up leather jacket and those tight blue jeans. He was at the coffee shop, nose buried in some left-wing newspaper. He was outside of classrooms and behind buildings and—everywhere. It was horrifying.

Jisung was forced to hide each time, sometimes even running in the other direction. He was afraid of feeling Minho’s gaze on him again, but he was even more afraid of how it made him feel.

_Catching fire—_

Which, of course, didn’t help with another growing problem: Jisung found himself _thinking_ about Minho, too. Like, more than was normal for a fellow club-member you’d gotten into a small fight with.

It wasn’t that Minho was disastrously attractive—which he was. But Jisung could also sense so much… _depth_ in the older boy. His hunger to fight, the easy way he commanded a crowd, the untamed energy rippling just beneath his skin—Jisung wanted to know all of it, and more. Every piece of him.

He wanted to know what fueled the fire burning in Minho’s eyes most of all.

But he had to remind himself every time that Minho thought of people like Younghyun as killers, and that Minho was probably pissed at Jisung for arguing with. Besides—pretty, charming people like Minho tended to hang out with other pretty, charming people like Hyunjin and Felix. Jisung didn’t exactly fit the requirements for that one.

Jisung knew getting closer to Minho was not a good idea.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t want to. ( _So badly._ )

All he could do was hope Minho would stay away from him, and Jisung would do the same.

Easy.

Except the next time he saw Minho…was anything but easy.

The club had decided to meet weekly on Thursday nights, so that next Thursday night Jisung found himself pressed between Chan and Changbin as they shuffled towards the chemistry building.

“God, it smells like something died in here,” Chan said with a grimace as they walked in.

“Pretty sure it was my will to live,” muttered Jisung.

Changbin shoved him half-heartedly. “Oi, don’t be like that. Lee Minho is not going to murder you. He probably doesn’t even know who you are.”

Jisung scoffed, deciding not to dignify that with a response.

Minho _had_ to know who he was—he had glared at Jisung for practically a full minute on the quad the other day.

“Okay, children, we’re here,” Chan broke in, stepping forward to push open the classroom door.

Jisung found himself sitting in nearly the same spot as before, wedged in between Chan and Changbin on folding chairs. There were definitely less people here this time, but that was to be expected once the excitement of a new club had worn off.

“Okay, everyone!” Hyunjin’s voice sounded from the front of the room, and Jisung turned to find the boy standing at the podium, handsome as ever.

Felix was there, too, looking downright adorable in a fluffy pink sweater. Jisung felt Changbin stiffen beside him, and he suppressed a snicker.

And, of course, Minho.

Jisung would like to say he had gotten used to the Minho’s startling features by now, but that would be a lie. He squirmed in his seat, apprehension and anticipation swirling within him as Minho looked out over the crowd.

When Minho’s eyes found Jisung’s, the familiar heat flared up once more. Jisung held his breath— _catching fire_ —but Minho only held his gaze for a second before looking away.

“Today, we’re going to start making posters,” Hyunjin continued. “Protesting the war, protesting the university’s involvement, stuff like that. Be creative!”

“But make it good,” Minho cut in, smirking. “We don’t want to put up shitty posters.”

A laugh sounded throughout the room as Hyunjin rolled his eyes at the older boy. “Yes, hyung, thank you. Anyways, materials are over there, courtesy of the art majors. You can all get started!”

Jisung found himself being tugged behind Chan as the older boy led him and Changbin over to one of the tables. Chan started chatting up the people around them almost immediately, easily coaxing laughter out of them as everyone started handing out supplies.

Jisung smiled at the others at their table when Chan introduced him, but quickly looked back down at the blank white poster in front of him.

If he could say one thing to the world, what would he say?

Unbidden, Younghyun’s smile flashed behind his eyes.

_Killers—_

Jisung bit his lip, fingers tightening around the paintbrush in his hand. This war might take the most important thing he had—and Jisung knew that just might end him.

But he wasn’t the only one who could lose everything because of this war.

Jisung dipped the paintbrush into the cheap black paint someone had poured onto a paper plate. The beginning of a phrase stirred in his mind, and he slowly began to stroke out the first few words.

_End the war…_

The roar of chatter around him dulled to a faint hum as Jisung let the paintbrush finish his own thought. He carefully lifted the brush away when he was done, pondering the black letters before him.

“End the war before it ends you.”

Jisung whirled around to see Minho—fuck, _Lee Minho—_ standing right behind him as he read Jisung’s sign out loud. Jisung made an embarrassing, rather high-pitched noise of surprise and immediately coughed to cover it up.

Minho raised one eyebrow.

“Little morbid, isn’t it?” Minho asked, a hint of teasing in his tone.

Jisung’s cheeks darkened. “It’s attention-catching, actually! I’d like to see you do better.”

He glared up at Minho, realizing too late that this locked their gazes together. Minho’s eyes were even more mesmerizing up close, gold flecks shimmering in the light.

_pretty contradictions—_

God, Jisung was burning up.

He had to say something, anything to cool the fire raging through his body—

“And—besides! It’s a fucking war, isn’t it?” Jisung stammered wildly. “Of course…of course it’s going to be morbid.”

Minho grinned—actually fucking _grinned—_ at Jisung’s panic. It was terrifying, but also cute as hell.

“Got a mouth on you, freshie,” he said lightly, _playfully_ , before moving away in that annoyingly graceful way of his.

Jisung spluttered, cheeks darkening further as he gaped at Minho’s back. 

“Damn, never seen anyone get under your skin like that before,” whistled Chan. “I’m impressed.”

“Like I said…sexual tension,” Changbin muttered to his right.

Jisung just groaned, whirling back around and plunking his paintbrush down in defeat.

He just knew he was going to be seeing Minho’s eyes in his head for the rest of the week, the way they shifted between amusement and calculation. Like he had been taking stock of Jisung, _learning_ him.

_I want to know every piece of you—_

God, he had to get Lee Minho out of his head.

Luckily—or unluckily, really—Jisung was provided with a distraction.

As a political science and music composition double major, his classes were either filled with debates over political theory or analyzing harmonies in a piece. He was in one of the former—comparative politics, to be exact—when the professor launched the class into yet another war debate.

“And when we look at the Republic of South Korea’s motivations in the war thus far, how can we use other comparable institutions to make an argument about what those motivations are?” the professor asked, pausing for dramatic emphasis.

Jisung rolled his eyes. His professor just couldn’t be bothered to come up with a lesson and had decided to let the class pit their misinformed beliefs against each other—how exciting.

He had managed to keep himself from getting too involved each time, just getting his participation points in and then sitting back to let the others ramble.

But it got harder each time to stay silent.

_(Han Jisung was not a pacifist.)_

A student stood up suddenly, sporting neatly trimmed dark hair and a spotless uniform. He smirked before he spoke, as if this was all a bit of a joke.

“I mean…I think it’s quite obvious why President Park would want to be in this war,” the student began. “The war is necessary to build our economy—and economic development is what makes us more powerful than North Korea. Is that not our primary objective?”

Jisung bit his lip hard, concentrating on scratching a very straight line under his notes with a pencil. All he had to do was pretend he couldn’t hear…keep quiet…and stay out of trouble. Easy.

“I just think that anyone who would disagree with the war doesn’t have South Korea’s best interests at heart,” the student continued in a simpering tone. “The soldiers fighting for our safety are proud to serve that country. They’re heroes!”

_Goddamnit._

He just had to mention the soldiers. It got Jisung every time.

Younghyun wasn’t _proud_ to kill people. He wasn’t _proud_ to leave his home and his life behind, to put everything on hold, to risk his life for a war that he didn’t believe in.

Younghyun hadn’t had a choice.

And just like at the club meeting, Jisung was on his feet before he knew it. But this time, there was no Minho to burn through him, to light a fire within Jisung he hadn’t known existed.

This time, Jisung just had himself.

The student stopped speaking, smirk slipping a bit on his face as everyone in the classroom turned to look at Jisung.

He swallowed hard, and began.

“There are other ways to build the economy without needless killing…of not only Koreans but the people they’re fighting,” Jisung said. “And how does weakening ourselves with a pointless war _help_ with the threat from North Korea? It would be smarter to improve diplomatic relations.”

That sent a murmur through the crowd. Jisung bit his lip but stood his ground.

“Diplomatic relations? With the communists?” the student asked disbelievingly. “You think we should just make friends with them?”

Jisung opened his mouth to retort—but the professor was cutting in with a half-hearted, “All right, let’s settle down,” before he could say anything.

Jisung sat down, and so did the other student; but not after he gave Jisung a long look. His gaze didn’t burn like Minho’s—instead, it was cold. Chilling, almost.

Walking out of class a half hour later, a hard shove landed against his shoulder and Jisung almost stumbled to the ground. He found his balance and turned with a glare—only to find the student from before. His smirk was even wider than before, but his eyes held no humor.

“Better watch yourself, commie,” came a low whisper, before the guy was walking past him.

Jisung watched him go, with something like ice sliding down his throat.

For once, the flames that had been consuming him were gone. But there was no relief in their wake—just a strange chill that ran deep in his bones.

Jisung shivered.


	3. lighting up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> damn this fic got way more relevant all of a sudden…young ppl protesting? a govt obsessed with military power and suppression? I must be a fuckin psychic. real talk tho: pls be safe, yall. idk about other countries but if you’re protesting in America be careful bc the cops are truly giving no fucks on who gets hurt. 
> 
> neways…seungmin is here at LAST! my frickin BOY! spoiler but seungmin as a student reporter is my kink

The main issue with Hwang Hyunjin was that he was so damn friendly.

Jisung had plenty of issues with Hwang Hyunjin, to be fair. No one deserved to have a face like that AND be tall, not to mention he was known for his spot on the university dance team (along with Minho and Felix, of course).

This would all have been fine—if he didn’t have a good personality, too. It gave him a truly unacceptable advantage, in Jisung’s opinion. Even though they barely knew each other, he could already tell Hyunjin was charismatic but down-to-earth.

And fucking _friendly._

So when Jisung caught sight of Hyunjin walking by on the quad one day, he knew he was fucked. Because Jisung was walking with his roommate Seungmin, token frenemy who loved to make Jisung’s life hell.

And Hyunjin was with Minho.

Seungmin had been the first person Jisung met in college, when they both moved into their dorm room. Jisung had taken one look at Seungmin’s spotless side of the room and thought, _‘This will last one week, maximum.’_

But somehow, they’d stuck it out with each other these past couple months—and Jisung knew Seungmin felt the same fondness he had for the other boy. But he also knew Seungmin wasn’t going to miss a single opportunity to tease him.

And this was a perfect one.

Jisung had managed to successfully avoid Minho since the last club meeting, and breaking that streak with Seungmin present was the last thing he needed.

“Fuck,” Jisung hissed, gripping Seungmin’s arm and attempting to steer them away as Hyunjin’s eyes lit upon them and the other boy called out in greeting.

“Stop grabbing me, creep,” Seungmin hissed back, resisting Jisung’s grip easily. “What the hell’s gotten into you?”

Jisung just whined, unable to put the train-wreck that was about to happen into words.

“Why can’t you trust me this one time, Minnie?” he begged instead. “Just—just hide me, please!”

Seungmin’s eyes narrowed. “That boy is coming over here with his friend. Why do you need to hide from him?”

Jisung whirled around, turning his back to the fast-approaching figures. “That’s—that’s _Lee Minho,_ ” he whispered frantically.

Seungmin’s eyes widened. “That’s the Lee Minho you’ve been whining about?”

Jisung nodded furiously, but before he could say anything else—

“Hey, Jisung-ssi!”

_Oh god._

There was no escaping now. Jisung sent a quick prayer and turned around to see Hyunjin and Minho standing before them, the latter looking distinctly less excited to be there.

Jisung threw on a smile, hoping he looked vaguely normal. “Oh, hey! Didn’t see you guys there. This is my roommate, Kim Seungmin.”

Hyunjin smiled back at Jisung, but his eyes slid to Seungmin quickly. “Hey there, I’m Hwang Hyunjin and this is Lee Minho. I’m a freshman and he’s a junior.”

Seungmin nodded stiffly, eyes wide. “Nice to meet you.”

The three boys exchanged slight bows, Jisung looking on nervously.

“They’re in the anti-war club with me,” Jisung offered to Seungmin, more to break the silence than anything else.

Hyunjin’s smile widened. “Interested in the anti-war movement, Seungmin-ssi?”

Seungmin seemed to only stiffen more, and Jisung raised an eyebrow. His roommate wasn’t the warmest person in the world, but he wasn’t usually so standoffish with new people. It was…odd.

“Well, yes,” Seungmin responded after a moment. “I’m a student reporter, so it’s kind of my job to be interested in student movements on campus.”

“Wow, that’s so impressive,” Hyunjin said warmly, eyes wide and sparking with interest. “You should come to the next meeting and check it out for an article.”

Jisung raised his other eyebrow. Was it just him, or was Hyunjin really turning up the charm?

_But why—?_

“I’d be more than happy to do an interview with you,” Hyunjin continued. He reached one hand up to run through his artfully tousled black hair as he grinned winningly at Seungmin. “For your article, of course.”

Seungmin only spluttered in response, making a vague noise of assent after a moment.

Jisung’s jaw dropped.

Hwang Hyunjin was _flirting_ with Kim Seungmin—Jisung’s standoffish, unromantic, sharp-tongued, definitely-a-virgin roommate. And if Seungmin’s flushed cheeks and inability to speak were anything to go by…it was working.

This was almost too good to be true.

Jisung barely suppressed a snicker as Seungmin’s blush darkened. He was going to _torture_ Seungmin after this.

“That’s so nice of you, Hyunjin-ssi!” Jisung jumped in, smiling evilly. “I’m sure Seungminnie would love to.”

He choked on a groan of pain as Seungmin moved closer to Jisung and deliberately stepped on his foot. They glared at each other for a moment before turning back to the other two with identical smiles of false innocence.

“Minho-sunbaenim, I’ve heard so much about you from Jisung,” Seungmin said brightly, ignoring Jisung’s panicked look.

Jisung swore right then he would stick his dirty clothes in Seungmin’s laundry for the rest of his life.

“Oh, really?” Minho said at last, turning his burning gaze on Jisung for the first time.

“What a funny joke, Minnie!” Jisung said through gritted teeth. “Sorry, sunbaenim, Seungmin’s actually a pathological liar. Horrible trait for a reporter, really.”

Seungmin’s gaze turned deadly. Insulting his honesty and ability as a reporter was the quickest way to piss Seungmin off—Jisung needed to end this interaction before it ended in a dead body. His dead body, to be exact.

Luckily, Hyunjin looked like he was eager to draw Seungmin’s attention back on him.

“So you’ll come to the next meeting, then?” he jumped in, catching Seungmin’s gaze once more and smiling in that utterly disarming way of his.

“Oh—um. Well. Sure,” Seungmin stammered, immediately losing his deadly aura and looking almost _shy_ under the weight of Hyunjin’s gaze.

“Great! I can’t wait to see you there,” Hyunjin said. His grin was bright enough to blind them at this point.

Jisung didn’t bother holding back a giggle as he watched Seungmin’s cheeks turn crimson.

“Wow, I’ve never seen him blush so much before,” Jisung said in a stage-whisper.

Hyunjin froze before blushing as well, and Jisung couldn’t help but laugh outright. His eyes met Minho’s almost without meaning to, and he grinned conspiratorially at the older boy before he could stop himself.

But instead of glaring in return or ignoring him, Minho smiled back at Jisung. It was a tiny, amused smile—but it was directly at him. A smile just for Jisung.

_Catching fire—_

Jisung felt his laughter abruptly stop as his cheeks burned, and he quickly looked away.

“Um—wehavetogobye!” Jisung burst out, before grabbing Seungmin’s arm and dragging the taller boy away as fast as his tiny legs could carry them.

For the rest of the week, Seungmin’s 8 a.m. alarm clock went off next to Jisung’s ear on full volume and Jisung’s dirty socks were thrown all over Seungmin’s side of the room.

But that Thursday, Seungmin agreed to come to the meeting with Jisung—which pretty much meant victory on his part.

Or it would have been, except Jisung never made it to the meeting.

_“Everything’s the same here. Don’t worry. I’m going to be okay, Sungie.”_

That’s how the letters always ended. And even if they didn’t do much to stop Jisung from worrying, the message at least let him know Younghyun was okay.

But this time, the newest letter read: “Heard we might be moving out soon, not sure to where. It’s probably routine, so don’t worry. I’ll be okay, Sungie.”

Jisung sank to the ground without realizing it, ending up kneeling on the floor of his empty room as he read the last three lines over and over. Where could Younghyun’s platoon be moving? To a new battleground? Closer to the front line?

_Closer to death—_

Jisung felt himself crumple, the letter still held tight in his shaking hands. His entire body felt brittle, weak—as if he could be blown away at any moment. Fear bloomed within him, dark and painful and inescapable.

He felt so…powerless. His brother’s life was in the hands of a dictator who didn’t know of his existence. And Jisung couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

“Jisung, let’s go to the meeting! I don’t want to be late, and—Jisung?”

Jisung looked up to find Seungmin standing over him, his expression filled with concern. Seungmin slowly knelt, holding Jisung’s gaze steady.

“What’s wrong?” Seungmin asked quietly.

Jisung shook his head, shoulders trembling slightly. “Just…Younghyun. He’s okay, I think. We should just go to the meeting.”

Seungmin leaned back, eyes wary as they took in Jisung’s expression. “Hmm…you know it’s alright if you’re not okay. We don’t need to go.”

Jisung bit his lip. “No, we should. I should. This is the only way I can help him.”

Seungmin considered him for a moment before sighing. “Okay, then we’ll go. But if you want to leave at any point, we’re leaving.”

Jisung just nodded. If this was all he could do for Younghyun, then it would have to be enough.

He would make it be enough.

But standing in front of the doors to the chemistry building a few minutes later, Jisung felt the ugly fear bloom within him once more.

_Killers—_

_Hyung, please don’t go—_

And all of a sudden, Jisung just couldn’t. He couldn’t go to the meeting and pretend everything was okay when his brother might be killed—might be dead already, and he wouldn’t know for another week at the least.

Jisung drew in a ragged breath, backing away from the doors. Seungmin turned to look at him worriedly, but Jisung just shook his head as his body began to tremble.

“Just go on without me,” he bit out, before turning and letting his legs carry him away into the night.

The world passed by in a blur of streetlights and neon signs as Jisung let himself run without any direction in mind. When his feet slowed at last, he found himself standing at the edge of the main street near campus, a popular haunt for college kids with its seedy bars and cheap restaurants.

Jisung drew in a steadying breath as he watched the street teem with life. Groups of students talking and laughing loudly, businessmen stumbling out of doors drunk on soju, ahjummas shouting for so-and-so to get their ass home.

It all made him feel so utterly alone.

Didn’t any of them care about the war? How could they just go on with their lives?

Jisung bit his lip. That was just what people did—they went on with their lives. It didn’t matter to them if Jisung’s brother might be dead…it didn’t really matter to anyone but him.

Jisung needed a drink.

And that was how Jisung found himself sitting at the counter of the nearest bar, dimly lit and crowded for a Thursday night. He didn’t drink often—with Jisung being an embarrassing lightweight, Chan and Changbin made sure he never drank by himself.

But right now, Jisung didn’t much care about making good decisions. Didn’t care about anything, really. He just wanted to stop thinking—and a soju bottle would help with that.

The bartender was a indifferent-looking older man, bearded and a little rough around the edges. He just nodded and slid the bottle and a shot glass over to Jisung after the boy stammered over his order.

Jisung curled into himself on the stool as he poured his first shot, looking around at the bar timidly. A couple groups of rowdy students were crowded around tables at the back, roars of laughter sounding from their corners every few minutes. A few businessmen were clinking drinks in groups, shirts untucked and ties loose.

There were only a few other people at the counter with him, mostly couples flirting with each other as the guys ordered drinks. No one took any notice of him, something Jisung was indescribably grateful for despite how alone he felt.

He knocked back his first shot, wincing a little at the burn of the liquid on his throat. The familiar bittersweet taste of soju warmed him, and Jisung poured out another shot.

Younghyun had taught him how to take shots a couple years ago. He had snuck a bottle of soju into their shared room and showed Jisung how to hold the bottle and pour it carefully, how to turn his head away when knocking back the shot.

_“Not like that, idiot, here—” “Don’t sip at it, this isn’t iced tea! Swallow it!”_

They had gotten properly tipsy, red-cheeked and giggling even though Younghyun insisted he was sober. He had eventually tipped over onto the floor, sending Jisung into uncontrollable laughter. They fell asleep tangled together on Younghyun’s futon, and blamed each other when their mother noticed their hangovers the next morning.

Jisung smiled a little at the shot in his hand. They’d gotten into so much trouble together over the years.

He missed Younghyun so much it hurt, sometimes.

Shaking his of those thoughts, Jisung was about to knock back the shot when—

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite commie!”

Jisung froze, shot still halfway to his mouth. Where did he recognize that voice from?

He lowered the shot and turned to find the guy from his comparative politics class staring down at him with a smirk, dark hair perfectly in place. At this range, Jisung could see he was a few inches taller than Jisung, with a stocky build.

His eyes were still cold—and Jisung found himself shivering.

_Shit._

“Can I help you?” he said, doing his best to sound nonchalant.

The guy leaned against the counter next to Jisung, uncomfortably close. “Don’t you remember me? I’m hurt, commie.”

Jisung rolled his eyes. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why not, if it’s true?” he responded, a dark note appearing in his tone. “My name’s Kim Minhyuck. Yours?”

Jisung raised one eyebrow. “If you have something to say to me, you can ask me in class on Monday. Or better yet, don’t say anything at all.”

“Aw, c’mon,” Minhyuck wheedled mockingly. “Don’t you want to get to know each other a bit? You certainly wanted to talk to me in class last week.”

Jisung clenched his fingers around the soju bottle, fighting to restrain his anger. “That was different, and you know it. I was interested in rebutting your stupid ideas about the war, not in you.”

At this, Minhyuck’s eyes flashed darkly. “Stupid, huh? I wonder what it’s like to suck the communists’ dicks. Do you just believe everything they tell you?”

Anger burst red-hot in Jisung’s chest. “Do you just believe everything the government tells you? And I _dare_ you to call me a communist again.”

Somewhere deep inside him, Jisung registered that this was not the smartest thing to say to a guy who had at least 50 pounds and a few inches on him. But he was too far gone, too full of soju and anger and memories of Younghyun to care.

_Not a pacifist—_

Minhyuck’s lips curled into a slow smile. “I was so hoping you would say that, commie.”

And that was when Jisung punched him.

He had never thrown a punch like that at anyone, but it seemed to surprise Minhyuck more than anything else. The other boy growled, hand coming up to hold his cheek as he glared at Jisung.

“You fucking bitch,” Minhyuck snarled.

He was raising his other fist in the next moment, and Jisung scrambled off the stool to try blocking it—and that’s when the bartender noticed what was going on.

“Hey, you stupid kids!” he yelled, sloshing a mug of dirty water at them. “No fighting in my fucking bar.”

Jisung barely heard him, focused on dodging Minhyuck’s fist as the other boy ignored the bartender’s shouts. But before they could get any further, there were strong hands gripping Jisung’s shirt and dragging him towards the door.

Jisung twisted around to see it was the bartender as he shoved Jisung outside with preamble. He stumbled into the night air along with Minhyuck, who straightened and looked down at Jisung with that fucking smirk.

“Why don’t we take this somewhere a little more private?” Minhyuck leered. “See if those little fists will save you when there’s no one else around.”

Anger sparked in Jisung’s blood—but before he could retort, Minhyuck was already gripping him by the shoulders and shoving him against the wall of the bar.

Jisung promptly kneed him in the stomach, eliciting an angry groan of pain from the other boy.

“Just be a good bitch for once,” Minhyuck snarled, before reaching up to backhand Jisung across the cheek.

Pain zipped along his nerves, the impact slapping Jisung’s face into the wall. He gasped as his cheek throbbed—and for the first time, fear began to trickle down his spine. This was getting more dangerous than he had expected.

Jisung wriggled in Minhyuck’s grip with new desperation, but it did nothing to dislodge the other boy’s hold on him.

Minhyuck just laughed darkly and leaned in, Jisung writhing in panic as that cold gaze and leering mouth got closer and closer—

“Hey, what the fuck’s going on here?”

Minhyuck froze, and Jisung used that opportunity to knee him straight in the crotch. Minhyuck groaned as his grip on Jisung loosened, and Jisung quickly ducked away from his hold.

He stumbled away a few feet, trying to put distance between him and Minhyuck as the other boy whirled around to glare at Jisung. But he didn’t move any closer, and Jisung quickly glanced over to see his rescuer—

_Oh god._

Standing on the street next to them was Lee Minho.

And he looked absolutely furious.


	4. flares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trying to update this every week from now on...idk if that’ll happen bc my productivity has never been lower but I will TRY! in other news I bring you “minsung finally getting along” AND jeongin in this chapter! hurrah 
> 
> also I know this is a minsung fic but damn I would kill a man for kang younghyun

Jisung’s heart stopped.

He wished desperately that he could rewind a couple hours and be back in his dorm room. As bad as his night had begun, he hadn’t been prepared for the added humiliation of Lee Minho seeing him like this—alone and drunk and about to get beaten in a bar fight on a Thursday night.

The soju churned in his stomach sickeningly, and he struggled to keep himself upright as Minho and Minhyuck stared each other down.

“Who the fuck are you?” Minhyuck sneered.

Minho crossed his arms, looking downright dangerous in his leather jacket. He tilted his head and stared at Minhyuck like he was already imagining his fist in the other boy’s face. “Answer my question first. What’s going on here?”

Minho’s eyes slid past Minhyuck to land on Jisung, the deadliness in his gaze softening just a bit as he looked the younger boy over.

Jisung did his best to look perfectly normal and not like he was about to pass out from a combination of fear and embarrassment and soju. He couldn’t meet Minho’s eyes, though, not when humiliation was still rolling through him in sickening waves.

“It’s none of your business,” growled Minhyuck, taking a step towards Jisung and dismissing Minho.

Jisung immediately took a step back, instincts kicking in as Minhyuck turned towards him once more. Should he run? Would he be able to escape him?

Before he could react further, Minho was beside him. Jisung could feel Minho stiffen next to him as Minhyuck got closer, the older boy’s entire body poised for a fight. Minho’s eyes were on fire, full of fury and…a strange excitement.

Jisung could practically feel the energy thrumming in Minho’s blood, the kind that made him wonder what this boy would be like if he was ever fully unleashed—what lengths he would go to, what battles he would take on.

_Lee Minho is not a pacifist—_

Jisung was torn from his thoughts at the sound of Minhyuck’s scoff.

He shook his head. “You know what? Fuck this. I’ll see you in class, commie.”

Jisung flipped the other boy off as anger flashed within him, but the effect was lessened by how hard his hand was trembling.

Minho turned to him. “You okay?” he asked, his voice no longer made of steel.

Jisung looked up to see the fire in Minho’s eyes had quieted to a soft smolder, and he could only nod. He had no way to tell Minho that he was farthest thing from okay, not without embarrassing himself further.

“Thanks,” Jisung said after a moment, his voice quiet and hoarse.

Minho shook his head. “It was nothing, I was just passing along and…I recognized your voice.”

Jisung nodded again, unsure what to say. He wrapped his arms around himself as he felt the night chill for the first time, shivering. His jacket was back in the bar, but he didn’t feel like going back there again.

He felt Minho regard him for a moment, and braced himself for an insult.

“Do you want to walk back to campus together?” came a question instead.

Jisung glanced up in shock, but Minho was just looking at him with a half-smile. Jisung shrugged—he did want to get back to the safety of his room. So he started walking in the direction of campus, nodding for Minho to follow.

The older boy fell in step with him easily, and they walked in silence for a few moments. Jisung’s head started to pound as the numbness of the soju wore off, and another wave of nausea rolled through him as the embarrassment of the entire situation hit again.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know,” he burst out at last, unable to stand the silence any longer. It wasn’t as confident as he’d planned, coming out all shaky.

Minho shrugged, sticking his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Like I said, I was just passing by. And it kinda seemed like you could use the help, if I’m being honest.”

Jisung closed his eyes tightly, humiliation crashing through him once more. Minho was right—he probably would’ve ended up lying beaten up in the street once Minhyuck was done with him.

_So powerless—_

Before his thoughts could spiral further, a sudden warmth blanketed him. Jisung looked up to find Minho’s leather jacket resting over his shoulders. It practically dwarfed Jisung’s frame, and he looked at it in awe as delicious warmth surrounded him.

But this was too much—first Minho saved him from a fight, and now this? He turned to protest, but Minho refused to meet his eyes and instead cleared his throat loudly.

“You sure like to get into fights, huh?” Minho asked before Jisung could say anything.

Jisung gasped, affronted. All thoughts of the jacket melted away as he turned to glare at Minho.

“I don’t like getting into fights!” he protested. “They just…happen a lot.”

Minho snorted, and Jisung’s cheeks burned at his poor excuse.

There was silence for a moment, and then Minho spoke up again. “So…what was that one about, then?”

Jisung looked away, unconsciously tugging the jacket tighter around himself. “Well, um. He’s in one of my classes and we kind of got in a debate about the government’s motivations in the war.”

He rolled his eyes, annoyance flashing through him as he remembered their argument. “Because he said the soldiers were proud to be fighting and I just—well. I disagreed.”

Minho hummed in acknowledgement. “You’re…kind of protective of the soldiers, huh?”

Jisung’s gaze fell to his feet, and he tried to swallow back the lump that had suddenly risen in his throat at the reminder of Younghyun.

_I’ll be okay, Sungie—_

“Yeah. My older brother is one of them,” Jisung murmured.

Minho looked down at him in surprise. “Oh. That explains a lot, actually…I’m sorry.”

Jisung scoffed. “Don’t apologize, it’s not your fault he’s in the war.”

Minho’s gaze hardened at his words—just for a split second—before he shook his head. “No, I meant I’m sorry for arguing with you, then. At the first meeting.”

Jisung turned to Minho in surprise—he had expected the older boy to want Jisung to apologize for that, not the other way around.

“I get kind of sensitive about that stuff, so I think I was a little harsh on you,” Minho continued, one hand reaching up to rub at his nape in an uncharacteristically self-conscious move. “But I get it now, why it mattered so much to you that we shouldn’t target the soldiers.”

Jisung looked away to hide what he was sure was a dopey smile on his face, a strange warmth blooming in him. “Oh. Thank you, Minho-sunbaenim. I’m sorry, too, for ruining your first meeting.”

Minho laughed softly, the musical sound doing something funny to Jisung’s insides. “Just call me hyung already. And you didn’t ruin it, you’re not nearly important enough for that.”

Jisung gasped indignantly, but before he could retort—Minho was grinning directly at him, eyes glimmering under the streetlights. This was sufficient to shut Jisung up, and Minho nodded up at the building they had stopped next to.

“This is your dorm, right freshie?” Minho asked.

Jisung looked up to see it was, in fact, his freshman dorm building. “What are you, a stalker?” he said without thinking, before his cheeks darkened.

Lee Minho, stalking _him—_ what a joke.

Minho just chuckled and shook his head. “Chan told me.”

Jisung willed his cheeks to cool. “Oh. Makes sense.”

“Okay, well…I should get back now. Bye, Jisung,” Minho said.

The sound of his name on Minho’s tongue was enough to send another shiver through Jisung’s body, and his voice came out embarrassingly breathless as he responded, “Oh! Bye…Minho-hyung.”

Minho flashed him a devastating grin, all dark golden hair flashing and eyes sparkling under the streetlights, before jogging off into the night.

Jisung didn’t move, rooted to his spot in front of the dorm as he watched Minho’s retreating figure melt into the darkness. There was a strange, new sort of fire smoldering in his chest—not as dangerous, not as overwhelming. More…warm.

He felt so _warm_.

_Wait a minute—_

Jisung looked at his dorm building with narrowed eyes, then back at where Minho’s figure had disappeared. Why the hell had Chan told Minho where Jisung lives?

Had Minho…asked about him?

This thought was enough to stagger Jisung completely, and he made his way into the building and up the stairs to his room in a daze.

Until Seungmin turned from his desk, took one look at Jisung, and said, “Where the hell did you get that jacket?”

Jisung looked down at himself and groaned loudly. Minho’s jacket was still draped around his shoulders, large and warm and absolutely not his jacket. This meant he had to somehow find Minho and give it back— _god_ , that was going to be so embarrassing.

The universe definitely hated him.

Jisung heard the knock in the middle of a card game between him, Seungmin, and Seungmin’s cousin Jeongin.

He was about to lose anyways—Seungmin and Jeongin were both ruthless players, and Jisung had never been the best at these games. He was groaning as Jeongin giggled at him from the other side of the dorm room, when he heard the frantic knocking.

He got up and opened the door to find Chan panting on the other side, blond hair in disarray and eyes wide.

“They’re—they’re taking our posters down,” Chan said at once. “On the main quad.”

Jisung heard Seungmin and Jeongin stand up behind him, and he turned to see the other two boys already packing up Seungmin’s camera equipment.

“The whole school will know about this if I can cover it,” Seungmin explained, slinging the bag over his shoulder. “Is it safe for Jeongin to come?”

Chan nodded. “It should be, no campus police have shown up…yet.”

“I’m coming, no matter what,” Jeongin broke in, wide eyes shining with determination.

None of them were particularly good at saying no to Jeongin, so Jisung just shrugged and beckoned them out of the room. They arrived at the quad a few minutes later, finding a small group of students crowded around the steps to the library.

Moving closer, Jisung could see the posters they had strung up along the step railings, now mostly lying on the steps. Many of them were ripped and in pieces.

A couple administrators stood further up the steps, engaged in a quickly escalating argument with the students as other staffers continued taking down posters.

“You can’t do this!” one student shouted.

“This is the property of the school, you cannot desecrate it,” retorted one of the administrators, a rigid-looking tall man with a mustache that dwarfed his face.

Seungmin had already started discreetly snapping pictures of the fallen posters and the administrators shouting at the students. Jeongin followed him closely with the camera bag, gaze wide as he took everything in.

Jisung let Chan lead him to where Changbin was standing near Hyunjin and Felix. He recognized most of the other students from the club in the crowd.

“When did they start taking them down?” Jisung asked, raising his voice to be heard over the shouts.

“A couple hours ago,” Hyunjin answered, turning to acknowledge Jisung with a nod. “They’ve been taking them down in the other places, too.”

The expressions of anger seemed out of place on Hyunjin’s and Felix’s faces, and Jisung found himself growing angry as well.

How dare the school try to take away their freedom of expression? Wasn’t this still the Republic of South Korea?

“We’ve been trying to convince them, but they aren’t budging,” Felix added with a thrust of his chin towards the administrators. “Me and Hyunjin both went up to talk to them directly, but they refused to hear arguments from underclassmen.”

“That’s bullshit,” Changbin said fiercely. “You’re just as much a part of this school as the other students.”

Felix smiled at Changbin. “Thank you, sunbaenim.”

Spots of pink appeared on Changbin’s cheeks, and he ran a self-conscious hand through his hair. “Ah—just call me hyung.”

“Okay, Changbin-hyung!” Felix responded brightly, before turning back to face the front.

Jisung snickered as he watched Changbin valiantly try to gain control of his composure.

“Hey, want me to talk to them?” Chan asked. “I’m a senior, they have to at least listen to me.”

“Sure, that’d be great,” Hyunjin answered. “Try to ask exactly what rules we’re breaking here, so that they are forced to admit we aren’t.”

Chan nodded and pushed his way through the crowd to get to the administrators.

Jisung caught sight of a ripped poster further up on the steps, and felt himself tense. He recognized that poster.

_End the war before it ends you._

The poster was torn in half, right down the middle.

His hands clenched into fists, anger rising in him dangerously fast. A government that sends its people into certain death, a school that silences its students—what was next? What more could they do?

How much longer could he just take it?

Jisung found himself shoving his way through the crowd, his small frame slipping between bodies until he was standing next to Chan—face to face with the two administrators. The mustache man was arguing with Chan, his face growing red. The woman next to him seemed to be his assistant, with a notepad clutched in her hands and a red-lipped smile painted on her face.

Her eyes were cold, and Jisung found himself meeting them head-on.

“This is a place of education,” he began, fighting to keep his voice calm. “Freedom of expression is necessary to build knowledge, how can you educate students and silence their voices at the same time?”

Her smile wilted a bit, eyes flashing behind thin-rimmed glasses. “Young man, I’m going to have to ask you to take a step back.”

Jisung huffed in frustration, but did as she asked so he was two steps below her. “You can’t rip up our posters, we’re a university club! Every other club puts up posters.”

She straightened her blazer, looking away and above him. “Posters with dangerous messages are not allowed. And I am positive your ‘club’ is not actually registered with the university.”

“Dangerous messages?” Jisung said incredulously. “They’re just against the war—how is that dangerous? Please enlighten me.”

The red-lipped smile was gone completely now, and she sneered at him. “Young man, it sounds to me that you are in need of disciplinary action, from the way you are speaking to me. And without the proper honorifics, no less.”

Jisung clenched his fists, anger now pumping hot through his veins. “Answer my question, or—”

“Seonsaengnim, if I may cut in?”

Jisung looked up to see Minho standing beside him, face perfectly blank and eyes like cut glass. Minho didn’t acknowledge him, but Jisung felt a gentle hand brush over his elbow reassuringly. The touch stilled Jisung, and he felt a bit of the blinding anger seep out of him.

“I’ve already explained the situation to this disrespectful young man, and I believe my superior and I have a meeting to attend. So no, you may not speak to me,” the woman said with a toss of her head, and then followed the mustache man up the stairs.

Chan turned from beside them, gaze uncharacteristically sharp. “He was impossible to talk sense into. Any luck with the woman?”

Jisung shook his head, realizing his nails were digging into his palms and relaxing them. “Nothing. Just threatened ‘disciplinary action’ on me.”

He turned to Minho, stomach sinking. He’d ruined it all—if only he’d just stayed silent and let Minho take it from the beginning, the older boy would’ve been able to convince her.

“I’m really sorry, Minho-hyung,” Jisung mumbled dejectedly.

Minho was looking out over the quad in thought, but he glanced back down at Jisung’s words. “Don’t be sorry for that, be sorry for stealing my jacket for the past week.”

Jisung gaped at him in horror—he’d meant to return it, he really had! It was just...returning the jacket meant facing Minho and he wasn’t quite ready to do that.

But before Jisung could say anything, Minho was already chuckling and letting his hand brush over Jisung’s elbow again. The touch lit wildfires along Jisung’s skin.

“Never mind, it’s fine.” He looked out over the quad again, tone turning mysterious. “This means it’s time.”

“For what?” Chan asked.

Minho turned back to them with a grin. “The next step."


	5. catching fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> love it when I promise weekly updates and then immediately fail uwu go off me! sorry about that y’all, I always begin fics with a vague idea of what I want to do and wing it along the way until I hit a block and get stuck for four days…which is what happened here! i made up for it with minsung fluff tho (: don't get used to it
> 
> also just wanted to mention I did not make this fic bc of or about what’s going on rn with the BLM mvmt, even though it ended up being relevant to some of the current discourse. the interactions with cops described are entirely based on my interactions with campus cops while protesting at my school

“Jisung!”

He was distracted from the burning look in Minho’s eyes ( _a look that promised hellfire_ ) by Seungmin shouting his name. Jisung looked to the bottom of the steps, where Seungmin was waving to catch his attention.

Seungmin caught his gaze and immediately turned to point at the road next to the building, where… _fuck._ Two campus police cars were driving up onto the side of the road.

Jisung didn’t need to wonder why they were here.

“Minho-hyung,” he said quickly, tugging at the sleeve of the older boy’s shirt without thinking about it.

Minho turned to look at him with raised eyebrows, and Jisung let go of his sleeve with an embarrassed cough. But there was no time for this—he pointed to the road, and watched Minho follow the line of his arm until the older boy saw the police. A couple of the cops had gotten out of their cars, but were just standing there and watching them. 

“Shit,” Minho muttered. “Well, I can’t say I’m surprised.”

“They can’t arrest us just for standing here, we’re all students on campus,” Chan broke in.

Minho nodded in agreement, looking down the steps. More of the other students were noticing the police now, and the crowd began to disperse with worried whispers.

Minho cupped his hands around his mouth. “Hey! Emergency meeting in an hour.”

Jisung watched as some of the students turned back to Minho and nodded, but others just kept walking—no doubt frightened just by the sight of the campus police. Minho didn’t seem bothered, instead turning back to Jisung and Chan.

“See you two there?” Minho asked.

The other two boys nodded, and the three made their way back to Hyunjin, Felix, and Changbin. Seungmin joined them after a moment, followed by a Jeongin who was breathless with excitement.

“Get any good shots?” Hyunjin asked. “That’s a great camera, by the way.”

Seungmin seemed to startle, as if he hadn’t expected to be addressed. “Oh! Yes, actually. Would you…like to see it?”

Jisung watched Hyunjin step next to Seungmin and bend down to peer at the camera. The two began murmuring to each other in incomprehensible photography lingo, and Jisung caught Jeongin’s eye with a smirk.

“What’s up with that?” Jeongin asked quietly, coming up beside Jisung.

“I think your older cousin has a crush,” Jisung whispered back mischievously. “Better yet…I’m pretty sure his crush is flirting right back.”

Jeongin snickered, no doubt already planning to tease Seungmin about it later. “Who knew Seungmin-hyung was into pretty boys?”

Jisung laughed outright at that, but was quickly distracted by Minho addressing the group.

“Chemistry building, one hour,” he reminded them.

“We’re all coming, hyung,” Felix reassured him with a tinge of exasperation.

Jisung watched Minho nod and look off across the quad again, that burning look back in his eyes. Whatever the older boy was planning didn’t seem remotely safe—but safe wouldn’t help stop the war.

It was time for a little danger.

And that was how Jisung still felt an hour later in the chemistry building…until Minho opened his mouth.

“It’s time for the rally,” the older boy said firmly.

Jisung felt the apprehension in the room grow, and he looked around at the small group of students gathered there. Only a few other people had showed up, besides what he was already starting to think of as their little ‘group’: Minho, Hyunjin, Felix, Chan, Changbin, himself, Seungmin, and Jeongin.

Even though Jeongin was still in his last year of high school, he lived near enough to the campus and was close enough with Seungmin, and by extension Jisung, to hang out there often. Jisung could tell the other boys were already weak for Jeongin, and he fit into the group seamlessly.

“The posters weren’t enough,” Minho continued, a dark sort of excitement seeping into his tone. “The next step has always been to hold a rally…this is just a little sooner than expected.”

A smirk slid over Minho’s lips. “If we’re shouting on their doorstep, the university will have to listen to us.”

“Are you sure this isn’t too fast, hyung?” Hyunjin spoke up. “We’ve been over this before, and holding a rally is risky.”

Minho nodded. “You’re right, it is. But we need risks right now. Risky moves get attention, and attention means exposure of what we’re trying to raise awareness about. Besides, it’s not like there aren’t any other student rallies in Korea.”

“They sent campus police just because we were arguing with administrators over our posters,” Felix pointed out. “They’ll definitely show up if we have a whole rally.”

Minho shrugged. “Let them. We won’t be committing any crimes.”

Chan stood up beside Minho and looked back at them. “Fuck it, I’m in.”

He turned to Minho, who was grinning beside him. “But we have to be smart about it. Really plan it out, check what the university rules about protesting are, all of that. We need to be serious.”

Minho nodded in agreement, and Jisung watched Hyunjin stand upright with a defeated sigh.

“You’re going to be the death of me, hyung,” Hyunjin said, but Minho only grinned.

Jisung felt his gaze drop to his hands. He couldn’t get arrested—that would lead to losing his scholarship, the only thing keeping him in school and not on the battlefield.

But—

_I’ll be okay, Sungie._

He was so tired of feeling powerless. And if this could help his brother in any way, Jisung had to do it.

Jisung clenched his fist in determination and looked up to see the other boys nodding around him. The tension in the room had shifted—there was an energy building among them, now. The desire to fight.

And just like that, they were planning a rally.

It was strange how a few nights of late-night rally planning and copious amounts of steamed buns from the vendors near campus could bring a group of strangers together.

Jisung watched their little group spread out around the usual classroom for their nightly planning session, passing out bags of steamed buns and printed excerpts of university rules and anti-war essays. 

Chan was trying to feed Jeongin a steamed bun, the youngest whining in embarrassment while the older boy cooed teasingly. Seungmin and Hyunjin were snickering as they watched from the side. 

Changbin and Felix were already deep in conversation about some loophole the younger had found in the university rules. Jisung felt himself soften at the sight of their heads bent towards each other, blond and black hair almost mixing as they murmured together.

As for Minho—

“Here, freshie.”

Jisung turned to see Minho holding a steamed bun out to him, refusing to meet his eyes and staring at the bag instead. This was a Minho he was beginning to see more and more of—a certain softness that only peeked out every so often, but would never be acknowledged by the older boy.

Jisung didn’t comment on the action, afraid Minho would take it back. Instead, he hid a smile as he took the bun and bit into it.

“Don’t call me that, old man,” he responded instead, tone mocking. “Aren’t you supposed to be kind and caring to your dongsaengs?”

“I’m simply calling you what you are—a freshman,” Minho retorted. “And aren’t you supposed to be obedient and serving to your seniors?”

Jisung rolled his eyes dramatically, taking another bite of the bun to suppress his giddy laughter. Here was another side of Minho, one he’d seen from afar but was only recently starting to experience himself: playful. It was _fun_ to tease and be teased by Minho, to trade insults sweetened by smiles.

But it was damning, because the deadliness in Minho’s stare when he looked at Jisung had been replaced with warmth. It was damning, because Jisung was now struck not just by Minho’s dangerous beauty, but by his wit and the sound of his laughter.

It was damming, because Jisung was starting to fall for a boy who was impossibly out of his reach.

“Minho-hyung, come look at this!” Felix called out, and Jisung was torn from his thoughts as Minho walked over to the two boys.

“It says that sidewalks are technically public property, so we can march there without any legal repercussion,” Felix explained.

Minho hummed in thought. “That could work.”

“Felix found this earlier,” added Changbin proudly. “It’s super easy to miss.”

Minho raised an amused eyebrow. “Thank you for that, Changbin…but yeah, good job to Felix. We could use the sidewalks on the street that goes through campus.”

“But we would need to break off eventually to reach the president’s house,” Jisung spoke up. “Since we want to end up there and deliver our demands on paper.”

Chan abandoned Jeongin in favor of leaning over Felix’s shoulder to read the rules for himself.

He sighed. “You’re right…I’m starting to wonder if there’s a point in even trying to adhere to protesting rules.”

“Right, they’re not going to like us no matter what we do,” Hyunjin agreed. “Why not march straight down the middle of the quad?”

“No!” Jisung burst out, before catching himself and taking a breath. “I mean…if we can tell students we’re trying to eliminate as many chances of them getting in trouble as we can, we’ll get more people that way.”

_And I have a lesser chance of getting arrested,_ he thought guiltily. It was selfish of him—but surely other students didn’t want to be arrested either.

Minho’s gaze turned to him, calculating as usual but now softened a fraction.

Jisung shifted uncomfortably, afraid for a moment that Minho could see right through him—his selfishness, his fear, his weakness.

But Minho looked away after a second, gaze returning to the papers in Felix’s hand. “Jisung’s right. We need to attract as many people as we can. Even though we can’t promise their safety, we can at least look like we’re trying.”

Seungmin looked up from the notes he’d been taking, intent on covering the rally for the school newspaper.

“Wow, Minho-sunbaenim, never heard you agree with Jisung so easily before,” he commented with a smirk.

“Yah, how do none of you have respect for your seniors? Do I need to be harsher?” Minho threatened, tugging at Seungmin’s ear until the younger whined.

“Oh please, like you treat Chan-hyung with respect,” Hyunjin retorted, leaning over and placing a protective hand over Seungmin’s ear.

Seungmin blushed immediately, and Jeongin gagged next to him as Chan gave a shout of agreement.

“That’s true, Minho-ah!” Chan said with mock-anger.

Minho rolled his eyes. “So sorry, hyung. _Anyways_ , we need to focus on how we’re getting the word out. Bulletins, posters, and the newspaper won’t work, since the school officials see all those. Any ideas?”

Jeongin raised his hand. “What if you put notices where the students live?”

“Like in their residence halls,” Felix jumped in, warming up to the idea. “Only the students and the cleaning staff go in there!”

“And those students can spread the word to people living off campus,” Chan added. “Good thinking, you two.”

Minho nodded. “Let’s get to it, then—what should go on the notice?”

The moon was high in the sky by the time Chan called out that it was officially time for them to go to bed. Jeongin had been sent home hours ago after falling asleep in the corner, and the rest of them had been steadily decreasing in productivity since.

There was a chorus of tired groans and relieved sighs, and Jisung yawned widely. He was used to staying up late—he was a college student, after all—but several nights of planning on top of his normal workload was getting to him.

He had to admit that it felt good, though. To feel like he was finally _doing_ something.

The boys started packing up, shrugging on coats and slinging bags over shoulders, and Jisung looked for Seungmin to walk back to their dorm together. He sighed a moment later, remembering that Seungmin had already taken his fill of notes for the night and headed back to study for a test.

“Want me to walk back to the dorms with you, Sung?” Chan asked, further deepening Jisung’s suspicion that the older boy was a mind-reader.

“It’s okay, hyung,” Jisung answered with a shake of his head. “You live in the opposite direction, and it’s not that late. I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll walk you,” Minho said briskly, leaving no room for argument. “C’mon.”

Jisung opened his mouth to protest, but one look from Minho silenced him. He sighed in defeat and waved goodbye to the other boys before following Minho out of the building.

“Can’t get enough of my presence, hyung?” Jisung asked cheekily once he’d caught up with Minho.

Minho scoffed, but didn’t take the bait. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket (which Jisung had graciously returned) and kept silent, tilting his head back to watch the stars as they walked on.

Jisung stared at him in confusion, but didn’t question the older boy’s odd behavior. He hadn’t been alone with Minho since the incident with Minhyuck, and he wanted to enjoy it while it lasted.

Besides, it was the perfect opportunity to admire Minho in the moonlight. His dark golden-brown hair gleamed in the sun, but the moon gave it a shimmering quality. The fine-boned features of his face were traced in silvery light.

Minho looked ethereal.

“Is that guy still bothering you?” Minho said suddenly, turning to look down at Jisung.

Jisung jumped at being caught staring, quickly looking down at his feet before he actually registered what Minho had said.

“You mean Minhyuck?” he asked, glancing up to see Minho nod in response.

“Not really,” Jisung replied, shrugging. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

Minho’s gaze sharpened. “So he is, then.”

Jisung shook his head. “No, honestly. Sometimes he takes a dig at me after class, but it’s just stupid stuff. Nothing like that night, nothing…physical.”

He looked back down at his feet at the reminder, shame burning hot in his cheeks. He still hated thinking about it, how weak he must have seemed to Minho. It was proof of the older boy’s hidden kindness that he’d never teased Jisung about it, not once.

“If he bothers you like that again, tell me,” Minho said lowly.

The seriousness in his voice caught Jisung off guard, and he looked up in surprise. Minho was looking away from him now, but his features were hardened in a steely expression. Jisung didn’t like seeing that coldness on Minho’s face, not when he was growing used to warm mischief and laughter.

“Worried about your poor little dongsaeng?” Jisung asked, forcing playfulness into his tone.

The tension on Minho’s face broke, and he rolled his eyes at Jisung.

“Whatever makes you feel better, freshie,” Minho scoffed, but his lips quirked into a half-smile.

“I told you not to call me that!” Jisung whined, feeling distinctly childish but unable to help it. “I’m super mature.”

Minho laughed at that, and Jisung’s slight annoyance melted away at the musical sound. Making Minho laugh had to be the best feeling in the world.

“And what are you going to do about it?” Minho asked with a devilish grin.

Jisung scrambled for a comeback. “I’m—um…I’ll fight you!”

His cheeks burned as he said it, knowing how ridiculous it sounded. But in the next moment, Minho threw his head back in laughter—and that was definitely worth it.

“That better be a promise,” Minho said after a moment, eyes glittering with humor in the moonlight. “Now get inside, freshie.”

Jisung turned to see they’d arrived at his dorm building. He looked back at Minho, who was watching him with a glimmer of something soft in his gaze.

“Oh. Um…thanks. For walking me home,” Jisung said sheepishly.

Minho waved away his apology, nodding towards the building. “Don’t mention it. Go get your beauty sleep…you need it to grow some more.”

Jisung gasped in outrage and aimed his fists at Minho, but the older boy just stepped out of the way with another laugh. Huffing indignantly, Jisung whirled away from him and turned to walk towards his dorm.

“Night, Jisung!” Minho called out.

Jisung spun around to see Minho grin at him before turning and jogging away, just as he had last time. And just like last time, Jisung watched the figure melt into the darkness with warmth spreading through his chest.

It was this warmth, more than anything else, that told him: Lee Minho was definitely dangerous.

But Jisung was far past the point of staying away from him.


	6. set ablaze

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like im in a competition with myself to create the most niche, least appealing fics possible LMAO not sure how I’m gonna beat this one. ngl I keep going through phases of hating this fic which makes it hard to write but thank you for yalls comments bc they keep me going (:
> 
> neways we have FUCKING FINALLY arrived at the second major plot point of this fic and I am hella excited! again, this is loosely based off my own experiences with student protests. side note: it hurt me so bad to have chan say “you guys” instead of “y’all” ugh I know that sounds smoother but my southern accent is crying

“It’s really happening tomorrow.”

Jisung’s voice sounded embarrassingly small in the dim classroom, and he forced a bright smile to follow his words.

Chan groaned from where he was leaning against a desk, eyes closed. “I’ll be glad when it’s over, honestly. I think the stress of this rally is going to kill me before I can graduate.”

Jisung frowned at the reminder that Chan would be graduating in the spring. He couldn’t imagine college life without Chan—the older boy had become something like a brother to him in Younghyun’s absence.

Not that anyone could ever replace Younghyun, Jisung told himself sharply.

“You should just stay another year and get a second degree,” Jisung joked instead. “Fancy a literature major?”

Chan rolled his eyes. “Very funny.”

“I can’t wait, actually,” Hyunjin chimed in from where he was perched on a chair next to Chan. “Nothing this exciting has happened on campus so far.”

Seungmin gasped indignantly. “There’s plenty of exciting things! You just have to read the school newspaper.”

Hyunjin turned to grin at Seungmin. “I’ll have to always read your articles, then. You still haven’t interviewed me privately, you know.”

Seungmin’s cheeks reddened, and he turned back to his notes with an incomprehensible mutter.

“Please give the rest of us a break from the flirting,” Minho complained, resulting in protests from both Hyunjin and Seungmin.

Jisung drew his knees to his chest, staring down at his shoes as silence fell around the room once more. No matter how hard he tried to convince himself he was excited like Hyunjin, there was a pit in his stomach that said otherwise.

To get arrested—to end up on the battlefield like Younghyun—to throw away his life—

The possibility was utterly terrifying.

“Did you guys hear the school just donated another twenty million won to the military?” Chan spoke up, tone grim.

“I’m not surprised,” Changbin grimaced. “Did they even have an excuse this time?”

“To support the government’s quest to spread knowledge,” Chan quoted mockingly. “Because apparently knowledge and terror are the same thing.”

_Knowledge and terror—_

The words hung heavy in the dim room, the sun nearly set beyond the mountains. Another day in a country at war coming to a close.

“Maybe we should just throw out the plan and march straight through the quad to the president’s house,” Minho mused after a moment, gaze on the ceiling as he tipped back his chair. “Tensions are already so high between the students and the administration…what’s the point in pacifying them?”

“No, we can’t,” Jisung said at once, tone sharper than he had intended. He forced himself to regain some composure before continuing. “Like we agreed earlier, it’s better to try keeping the students as safe as we can.”

“Safe?” Minho repeated incredulously, catching Jisung’s gaze. “The whole point of this rally is to stop taking the ‘safe’ choice, and _do something_ for once. We have to get their attention. We have to make them listen.”

“And we will, but that doesn’t mean we should throw caution out the window,” Jisung retorted, rising to his feet without thinking. He dimly registered the exhaustion and fear that were speaking through him, making his tone more cutting than it should be.

But Jisung was also sick of holding back. Not when he had everything to lose.

“Caution won’t exist in the rally, it’s a false promise,” Minho shot back, gaze fiery as he got up from his chair to stand in front of Jisung.

The deadliness in Minho’s eyes had reappeared, and Jisung found himself wondering if they had ever made any progress at all. If he would ever get closer to Minho without getting burned eventually.

_Fire always catches in the end—_

Jisung frowned, wishing he was taller as Minho looked down at him. “There are people who have something to lose here, you know.”

Minho bent his head, bringing their faces inches apart as his eyes burned into Jisung.

“Like what? A war?” Minho murmured.

Jisung’s breath caught at the low roughness of Minho’s voice. How could this boy get to him so easily, have him on his feet in seconds?

He opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by Chan.

“Alright, you’re both tired and stressed,” the older boy cut in. “Minho, it’s too late to change the plans for the rally. Jisung, this rally isn’t safe…but everyone attending should know that.”

Jisung kept his eyes on Minho’s for a long moment, before finally looking away and stepping back. He turned and let himself fall into a chair.

Silence stretched tight over the room for a few long moments. Jisung knew he had managed to make it awkward—he and Minho hadn’t actually argued for weeks.

“It just feels like…tomorrow is going to go wrong, somehow,” Jisung whispered at last, keeping his gaze firmly on his hands so he didn’t have to see any of the other boys’ faces.

“Tomorrow will be fine,” Minho answered at once, voice steely and leaving no room for argument.

Jisung glanced at him in annoyance, but Minho was already staring at him. The darkness in his gaze was gone, and instead the Minho that Jisung had come to know was looking back at him.

A Minho that walked Jisung back to his dorm late at night, and gave him his jacket without asking, and wanted change so badly he was willing to fight for it with everything he had.

Minho dipped his head in a slow nod—a reassurance. His eyes glimmered with certainty, and Jisung felt some of the tension inside his chest loosen.

Whatever happened tomorrow, Minho would be there.

“Looks like someone got bored of you two flirt-fighting,” Jeongin snickered, speaking up for the first time in a while.

They all turned to where Jeongin was pointing—and saw Changbin and Felix sitting right next to each other against the far wall. Felix was fast asleep, his head pillowed on Changbin’s shoulder. Changbin’s cheeks were a dark crimson as he stared down at Felix’s sleeping figure.

Jisung felt a wide grin split his lips as he watched his best friend. As much as Jisung loved teasing Changbin, he was undeniably happy the older boy had found someone who was just as affectionate as him. 

_Now if only Changbin would grow a spine and actually ask Felix out…_

“Oh, this is gold,” Seungmin whispered, lifting his camera and snapping a picture.

“Make a copy of that for me,” Jisung said immediately, and Seungmin nodded to him with an evil grin.

“Having fun over there, Bin-hyung?” Jisung called out softly, smirking.

Changbin looked up to level Jisung with a deadly glare and mouthed, _“Shut the hell up.”_

Jisung just grinned back at him.

A sudden tightness appeared in Jisung’s chest as he looked around the room. Changbin was threatening murder as quietly as possible while Felix slept peacefully on his shoulder, Seungmin and Jeongin were giggling over the photo, Hyunjin waggled his eyebrows suggestively as Chan recalled lyrics from Changbin’s love songs, and Minho looked over them all with a wide grin.

If Jisung got arrested, if he was drafted…this was what he would lose—this group of boys. A shitty classroom in the chemistry building, sharing steamed buns and helpless laughter, the last stubborn shreds of hope.

But Younghyun could lose his life. So many others already had.

And as Jisung looked around the room, he realized that he trusted these boys. These seven kids who wanted to be part of something bigger, to do something _good_ —just like Jisung.

Minho caught Jisung’s gaze from across the room, and Jisung watched as the older boy gave him a quicksilver grin to show their earlier fight was forgiven.

Jisung smiled back warmly, suddenly not feeling quite so afraid anymore. Because for the first time in a long time, Jisung thought maybe everything would be alright.

_Let the hellfire come,_ Jisung thought to himself. _I’m ready for it._

And come it did.

“LET’S GO!”

The shout broke out over the crowd, a teeming herd of students gathered in the evening light.

Jisung looked up at Hyunjin, who had yelled the words through his megaphone. The other boy was at the front of the mass, flanked by Felix and Minho. Jisung was reminded of seeing them for the first time all those weeks ago, taken aback by their charismatic energy.

Here they were again, this time leading hundreds of students.

Jisung wasn’t far behind them in the crowd with Chan and Changbin, and he caught glimpses of Seungmin snapping pictures from a distance. He looked back to see the massive amount of students surrounding them, waving signs and shouting.

More had shown up than any of them had expected—and the rally hadn’t even started.

Twin waves of anxiety and pride rushed through Jisung, and he forced himself to take a steadying breath. So far, everything was going according to plan: they had met at the edge of campus, and were about to head towards the president’s house using the street.

A roar had gone up among the crowd at Hyunjin’s call, and the horde started to march forward through the campus. Jisung stumbled to keep up at first—it felt like the students had formed a wave of movement, impossible to not be swept along in.

A grin broke out over his face, surprising himself. He turned to see Chan and Changbin sporting matching grins as they walked on either side of him.

Maybe he was terrified right now, maybe this could all end horribly—but they had done this.

“END THE WAR!” came another shout from Hyunjin, and the students all repeated it in a massive wave of sound.

Jisung shouted along, elation spreading its wings in his chest.

He could barely see past the students around him, but he caught glimpses of administrators looking down at them from their office windows. Students poured out of buildings to watch from the sides or join in.

_END THE WAR!_

_END THE WAR!_

Police cars were pulling up on the street behind them, but Jisung looked away from them determinedly. They had no reason to arrest the protesters—they were all on public property still.

The crowd was getting closer to the president’s house now, the white brick building rising in front of them. They would have to break off the sidewalks and walk directly across the quad to reach it, onto university-owned grounds.

As Hyunjin, Felix, and Minho led the crowd off the street and towards the president’s house, the cops started getting out of their cars and following them. There were more police than Jisung had ever seen on campus, and he faintly wondered if the school had called in the city police as well.

_END THE WAR!_

_END THE WAR!_

The crowd swept him forwards, and soon they were coming to a stop before the steps to the president’s house. Jisung strained to see Minho, Hyunjin, and Felix walking up the steps to the door, where security guards were waiting.

His breath was tight in his chest, and Jisung sent a silent prayer that the president would come out and accept their demands without incident. Then they could march back the way they came, all without involving the police.

The roars of the crowd were too loud for him to hear what Minho were saying, but he knew Minho was asking to see the president and hand him the list of their demands. Jisung’s breath caught when the guards shook their heads—it didn’t look like it was going well.

The argument stretched on, the students growing more agitated and starting to yell more and more provocations.

“Let us in, you militarist pigs!” came one shout.

“Get the fucking coward out here!” followed another.

Jisung felt the wave of students start to move forward around him, and he looked up in panic to see they were swarming around the steps and pushing closer to the door.

“Wait!” he called out, but the words were lost in the cacophony of shouting.

Minho was still arguing with the guards, and Jisung prayed the older boy would succeed before the tenuous peace between the students and police snapped.

But then Minho took a step forward, towards the door—and the nearest guard pushed him back roughly. A scream caught in Jisung’s throat, and he pushed forwards without thinking.

From there, chaos ensued.

All at once, police started to push at the protesters, who pushed them right back. The crowd erupted in shouts and fights as the police started using their batons to beat students away from the house, and the students retaliated with rocks and sticks.

Jisung felt panic claw its way up his throat, and he looked back to the front to see guards were still pushing Minho, Hyunjin, and Felix. Felix had fallen halfway down the steps, and was struggling to get up.

Another yell tore its way from Jisung’s mouth—this time one of anger—and he shoved his way forward once more.

_How dare they—_

Chan and Changbin were behind him, but he could barely their shouts over the crowd. He couldn’t see Seungmin at all anymore, and he spared a second of gratitude that they hadn’t let Jeongin come to the rally.

All Jisung could think about was getting to Minho, Hyunjin, and Felix somehow, to help them—but the crowd was pulling him in every direction, screams and sirens piercing his ears.

Jisung could barely see the top of the steps anymore, and he choked back a fearful sob as he tried in vain to go forward.

He lurched to the right to avoid a girl charging past him with a yell to collide with an officer, her body smacking off the cop’s shield. Jisung started to go after her, but the scene was soon swallowed up by the mass of writhing bodies.

He choked back a panicked sob and started to go towards the house again, ducking flying fists. The police had started to spray mace into the crowd, and Jisung gagged on the burning air. He drew his shirt up to cover his mouth and nose, and charged forward.

He was so close to the steps now—only a few feet more…

Rough hands suddenly grabbed at him, yanking him back away from the steps. Jisung looked up in horror to see a policeman holding his arm in an iron grip. He tried to twist away, screaming for help without anyone to hear him.

The acidity in the air rushed into his lungs, and he coughed harshly.

_No please no no—_

The policeman pulled him backwards, away from the house—and Jisung screamed out again in desperation.

_Oh god please—_

Waves of panic shook his body, and Jisung tried one last time to escape—when another pair of strong hands caught his waist and all of a sudden he was being tugged in the other direction.

The screams had risen to a fever pitch, and Jisung felt himself losing his grip on consciousness as the panic threatened to overwhelm him. The mace in the air was turning his vision hazy and his lungs felt as though they would collapse.

He faintly heard someone yelling his name, but he was choking on anxiety as his vision darkened—and it was so hard to try answering whoever it was—

_I can’t breathe—_

_Jisung!_

Darkness suddenly rose up to meet Jisung, and he dove into it headfirst.

Everything went black.


	7. watch it burn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update is lk early as a thank you to y’all for your sweet comments last chapter (: also I think I have a thing for minsung patching up each other’s injuries bc it keeps happening in my fics I SWEAR I do not plan it
> 
> mayhaps this one is very soft?? mayhaps I am growing soft in my old age?? like ok grandma lesgetit
> 
> also tag urself I’m seungmin struggling to cover protests for the student newspaper while not getting arrested or accidentally beat up by the protesters or both uwu

_Jisung!_

A pair of hands shook Jisung’s shoulders, and he dimly registered the warmth seeping into his skin from where they touched him.

The darkness was slowly ebbing away, his senses returning in a trickle of sound and light.

_Jisung!_

He was…on the ground, as far as he could tell. The hands had ceased their shaking, instead tugging his body to press tightly against a strong frame. Whoever it was—they were so _warm._

“Jisung, you need to wake up,” a voice sounded in his ears out of nowhere, and he cringed away from the sudden volume. “Jisung, wake up!”

A sense of urgency was starting to stir within him, and Jisung fought to swim through the darkness fading away from him. Towards the shimmering surface, towards the light—

“Jisung, please!”

Jisung opened his eyes.

The assault of white light burned his eyes immediately, and he quickly shut them before opening one at time slowly. The sky came into focus above him, a hazy red from the setting sun. There were tree branches above him, leaves fluttering in the breeze.

Minho’s face appeared in his gaze.

Genuine fear blanketed Minho’s expression—it was the first time Jisung had ever seen the older boy look so scared. Minho mouthed his name, relief mixing with the fear on his face as he met Jisung’s gaze.

Jisung stared at the older boy in shock. Why was he so afraid?

Then a shout sounded near them…and all at once, a wave of sound poured into Jisung’s ears. Sirens, screaming, thuds, feet pounding against the pavement—Jisung sat up at once with a gasp.

_The rally._

His head pounded at the sudden movement, and he winced. He must have hit his head when he fell.

“Careful, don’t move too fast,” Minho said, an unmistakable tremor in his voice. “Fuck…thank god you’re awake.”

Jisung turned to him, willing away the pain in his head.

“What…what happened?” he said slowly.

Minho kept a hand on Jisung’s shoulder to steady him. “I heard you screaming, and I got close enough to see that cop dragging you away.”

He shook his head, a pained expression taking over his face. “He was just…yanking at you, and you looked on the verge of passing out. So I somehow got to you—I have no idea how—and I managed to pull you away.”

Minho gestured at the oak tree they were sitting under. “You hit your head and were pretty much out of it, so I took you over here.”

Jisung looked over Minho’s shoulder to see the chaos of the rally still raging on further down the quad.

“But we’re not safe here, we need to get out of the open,” Minho said quickly. “Can you stand?”

“Wait, Minho-hyung…where are the others?” Jisung asked desperately, swallowing back his fear at the thought of any of them hurt, or worse…arrested.

“Chan and Changbin got to Hyunjin, Felix, and me,” Minho said. “We managed to get out of harm’s way, but we had no idea where you were, and I just—”

He brushed his thumb over Jisung’s shoulder in a slow, tingling circle. “It was pretty fucking scary, if I’m being honest. I’m…I’m so sorry—”

“Hey!”

The shout came from far too near their spot, and Jisung looked up to see a group of students pursued by a couple cops running towards them.

“Shit, we need to get out of here,” Minho said urgently. “C’mon, I’ll help you.”

Jisung managed to get upright on his shaky legs, and leaned into Minho’s side as the older boy stood along with him. He looked back to see the cop heading right in their direction.

“Now we run,” Minho said, smiling weakly at Jisung.

Jisung did his best to smile back, head still pounding and the world hazy around him.

And they ran. 

The campus passed by them in a blur of brick buildings as Minho took Jisung to his dorm, explaining that it was the closest. They stumbled past the startled student at the front desk and up the elevator without much trouble, and finally burst into Minho’s dorm.

Jisung took the opportunity to glance around the older boy’s room as Minho helped him sit on the bed. He had a single room, and it was neater than Jisung had expected (neater than Jisung’s at least, which wasn’t saying much).

A couple dance posters were tacked onto the walls, and framed photos of cats and a couple who looked like Minho’s parents sat on the desk. There was a photo of the dance team too, and Jisung could see Hyunjin and Felix smiling on either side of Minho in the group of boys.

Jisung grinned at the cat plushie sitting on the bed. “What’s his name?”

Minho whirled around from where he’d been shrugging off his jacket. When he caught sight of the plushie Jisung was pointing at, his face flushed. “Shut up.”

Jisung hid his growing grin behind his hand. “It was a simple question, hyung.”

“Don’t make me regret getting you out of there,” Minho said dryly, before retrieving an ice pack from the mini fridge in the corner and coming over to sit next to Jisung.

“Okay, let hyung see your head,” he said, voice suddenly softer than Jisung had ever heard it.

Jisung tilted his head towards Minho dutifully, willing away the blush in his cheeks without success. He inhaled sharply at the feeling of Minho’s hands carding through his hair at his temple, brushing away the strands to see the bruised area.

“Mm, you have a little bump here…but it’s not too bad,” Minho murmured, his voice low and so close to Jisung’s ears that it sent a shiver through his body.

Minho pressed the cold pack against Jisung’s temple, and he hissed at the icy burning sensation. Minho hummed in apology but kept the pack there.

“I don’t think you have a concussion,” he said after a few moments, pulling away to meet Jisung’s gaze. “You probably just need to sleep off the dizziness.”

“How…” Jisung swallowed hard, steadying his voice. “How do you know so much about this?”

Minho gave him a small smirk. “Dance injuries.”

He pressed the cold pack more firmly against Jisung’s skin, and the younger boy couldn’t help but let out a small whine.

_Fuck, that hurt…_

“Are you seriously pouting?” Minho asked.

Jisung slapped a hand over his mouth. “No!” he protested, voice muffled.

Minho’s lips quirked in amusement. “It’s just an ice pack, you baby.”

Jisung’s cheeks darkened further at Minho’s words…especially the last one.

“Shut up,” Jisung retorted instead.

Minho chuckled at him. “Would holding Soonie make you feel better?”

Jisung gaped at the older boy, who thrust his chin at the cat plushie by way of explanation. “So that’s his name!”

“ _Her_ name, actually,” Minho corrected. “I named her after one of my actual cats at home.”

Jisung reached out a hesitant hand towards the plushie, keeping his eyes on Minho’s. When the older boy gave him an encouraging nod, he grabbed the plushie and held it close to his chest.

“Oh, she’s so soft!” he exclaimed happily, and looked up to catch Minho looking at him almost...fondly.

“Do you cuddle with her every night, hyung?” Jisung asked cheekily, unable to resist this golden teasing opportunity.

Minho raised one eyebrow and pushed the cold pack against his skin harshly in punishment.

“Okay, fine!” Jisung yelped, hugging Soonie tighter. “I won’t tease, go easy on me.”

Minho rolled his eyes, but lessened his grip on the cold pack. The room grew darker as the sun disappeared behind the mountains, and Jisung’s thoughts quickly careened back to the rally.

“Do you think everyone got out of the rally okay?” Jisung asked at last, voice small.

Minho’s lips twisted in a frown. “I don’t know, I hope so. But it looked pretty…violent, by the time we got out of there.”

He sighed, his free hand settling on Jisung’s thigh. “I didn’t get to finish before, but…I am sorry, Jisung-ah. You told me today would go wrong, but I didn’t listen to you.”

Jisung shook his head furiously. “None of what happened was your fault, hyung. The cops didn’t have to get so violent…everything just got out of control so quickly. There was nothing you could have done.”

Minho sighed. “I guess. I feel pretty fucking guilty, though.”

Jisung met Minho’s gaze, hoping the older boy saw the seriousness in his eyes. “It wasn’t your fault, Minho-hyung. Don’t blame yourself. And maybe…this will lead to some change.”

Uncertainty swam in Minho’s eyes. “But what if this ruined it? Who will follow me and the others now, once they’ve seen what can happen?”

Jisung gripped Minho’s hand where it lay on his thigh. “I’ll follow you, hyung. I will,” he said fiercely.

Minho’s eyes seemed to catch fire at his words, and Jisung let their golden heat consume him. He didn’t let himself look away, finally unafraid of the flames in Minho’s gaze.

“I believe you, Jisung-ah,” Minho breathed. “Thank you.”

Jisung nodded, coming back to himself a bit and smiling shyly at Minho. The older boy got up to switch the melting ice pack for a new one, and Jisung felt dizzy with warmth—

_Wait._

“Hyung, did you see Seungmin?” he asked urgently. “You said Hyunjin, Felix, Chan, Changbin, and you all found each other…where was Seungmin? Did he make it out alright?”

Minho winced, his back to Jisung. He slowly turned around with the new ice pack in his hand, looking everywhere but Jisung’s eyes. “I don’t know where he is. I’m sorry…there was no time to search for him, not when I needed to get to you.”

Jisung clenched his fists, fear racing through him. “Shit…I need to find him.”

He stood up, only for his head to pang in protest. Jisung swayed on his feet, grimacing as he lifted a hand to his head. But he needed to find Seungmin—needed to make sure he was okay—

“You can’t leave, it’s not safe right now. There are still cops out there,” Minho said, striding over to guide Jisung back onto the bed.

Jisung resisted the older boy, forcing himself upright. “But hyung—”

“Seungmin is a smart and capable adult,” Minho said firmly. “He wasn’t even protesting, he was taking pictures at a distance. The cops had no reason to arrest him, and I highly doubt any students would bother him.”

Jisung let himself sit back onto the bed in defeat. “I can’t just abandon him.”

Minho placed a reassuring hand on Jisung’s shoulder. “You’re not abandoning him. You wouldn’t be any help to him in this state anyways. You need to rest.”

Jisung bit his lip, guilt blooming within him.

“C’mon, just rest for a bit,” Minho bargained. “Let me ice your head some more…and then we’ll look for him.”

Jisung nodded in surrender, letting Minho support his frame against his side as the older boy held up the new ice pack. They fell into silence, streetlights winking on outside and the moon rising in the window.

The warmth of Minho’s body seeped into Jisung’s skin, and he felt his eyelids drooping as the exhaustion of the day caught up with him. It was strange—how even though it felt like the world was falling apart, he felt so calm sitting next to Minho.

Without allowing himself to overthink, he let the uninjured side of his head fall onto Minho’s shoulder.

The older boy said nothing, only adjusting his position so Jisung could lean against him more comfortably. Jisung was too tired to feel embarrassment at his own actions, and he couldn’t resist nestling into Minho’s side the tiniest bit.

Warmth blanketed his body, soothing the ache in his head and limbs. And when the darkness rose up to meet Jisung once again…he walked into it without fear.

Jisung awoke still surrounded by warmth.

He sighed peacefully, snuggling into his pillow as he listened to the birds chirping outside the window. He blinked his eyes open a bit to see the sunrise splashing pale golden light over the white bedsheets—

_Wait a minute._

Jisung didn’t own white bedsheets.

He was far too prone to spilling any number of things on his bed, so he stuck to dark navy. _So why…?_

Jisung frowned, a new mystery greeting him as he realized there was an arm around his waist. A very strong arm, in fact, that prevented him from moving away at all.

Ever so slowly, Jisung tilted his head back to see— _oh fuck._

He was in bed with Lee Minho.

Jisung let out a tiny _eep_ of shock, watching Minho’s face with growing horror. The older boy was unfairly beautiful even while asleep, his golden hair catching the early morning light and his cutting features now disarmingly relaxed.

The last thing Jisung remembered was sitting upright on Minho’s bed next to the older boy, not lying _in his bed._ The older boy wasn’t under the covers, either—had he fallen asleep by accident?

Jisung twisted his head the other direction, and caught sight of a completely melted ice pack on the floor. So…there was part of his explanation.

But he still had no fucking solution. So maybe Jisung had a _tiny_ crush on the older boy, but he couldn’t take the embarrassment of waking up next to him. Not when Minho looked so fucking good, too.

Jisung carefully tried to wiggle his way out of Minho’s grip, but froze when the older boy made a grumbling sound. His voice was rough with sleep, and Jisung shivered before turning back to see Minho’s eyes were still closed.

With new resolve, Jisung tried once more to escape Minho’s grip, but—

“Stop fucking moving,” came the growled words.

Jisung froze. “You’re—you’re awake?” he whispered nervously.

“I wish I wasn’t,” Minho grumbled, tightening his grip on Jisung.

“But—hyung…” Jisung trailed off, unsure of what he could even say.

Minho sighed, the puff of his breath on Jisung’s neck making the younger boy shiver yet again. He seemed to fall back asleep after a moment, and Jisung resigned himself to a very awkward morning.

The urgency that had been dormant within him started stirring once more, and Jisung frowned as he tried to remember what he had forgotten. There had been something he needed to do as soon as he woke up, someone he needed to see—

Without warning, the door swung open.

“Minho-hyung, Jisung is missing! I need your help to find him!” Seungmin shouted from the doorway. He charged into the room, before suddenly catching sight of the two figures in the bed and stopping short.

So that was what Jisung had forgotten.

 _“Han Jisung?”_ Seungmin shrieked, lifting a finger to point at where Jisung was gaping at him from the bed.

“I can explain!” Jisung yelped.

“God, do you two ever shut up?” Minho groaned, loosening his grip around Jisung’s waist as he propped himself up on his elbow. “I need to start locking my door.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Seungmin asked angrily, undeterred. “Do you know how worried I was when you never came home after the rally, and no one knew where you were?”

Jisung scrambled upright. “I’m sorry! I hit my head, so Minho took me here. I swear I was going to find you as soon as I woke up!”

He bit his lip, hoping he looked apologetic enough to calm Seungmin’s wrath. “I was worried about you too, Minnie. I didn’t know where you had gone.”

Seungmin crossed his arms. “So worried that you spent the night in Minho’s bed, I see.”

Jisung groaned. “It wasn’t—it isn’t like that, not at all.”

“Can you two fight outside or something?” Minho sighed, flopping back onto the bed and shutting his eyes.

Jisung looked back at him and then at Seungmin, eyes pleading the other boy to let him fully explain later. Seungmin rolled his eyes, but nodded.

Jisung tugged at the arm Minho had thrown over his face. “Um—thank you again, hyung. I’ll just go back with Seungmin now.”

Minho lifted his arm to peer at Jisung. “Fine. Keep taking care of your head.”

Jisung saluted to him with a smile.

He watched Minho pretend to go back to sleep, but there was no hiding the spots of pink on the older boy’s cheeks. So maybe Jisung wasn’t the only embarrassed one…

Jisung got out of the bed carefully and slid into his shoes. He followed Seungmin to the door, before turning back to Minho one last time.

“Bye, hyung! Bye, Soonie!” he called, and was met with Minho shooting upright to glare at him.

Jisung just cackled evilly and let the door swing shut.

Seungmin gave him an exhausted look. “Now, who the fuck is Soonie?”

Jisung grinned broadly. “No one you need to know about.”

Seungmin rolled his eyes as they walked to the elevator. “I don’t think I want to know, anyways.”

Once they had made their way out of the building and were on the way to their dorm, Jisung turned to Seungmin.

“Hey, thanks for looking for me,” he said quietly, before leveling Seungmin with a teasing smirk. “I never knew you cared so much about me, Seungminnie.”

Seungmin scoffed. “I just can’t be bothered to find a new roommate, that’s all.”

Jisung smiled at the ground. “Ah, sure.”

They walked on for a few more moments, before Seungmin finally sighed and said, “I asked Chan-hyung where Minho’s room is, if you’re wondering. Thought he might know where you were…and I was right.”

Jisung rubbed at the nape of his neck self-consciously. “Um…”

Seungmin stopped him with a raised hand. “Explain the rest later, once I don’t want to kill you. But what I’m trying to say is…I guess I’m glad you’re not dead.”

Jisung grinned widely at him. “I guess I’m glad you’re not dead, either.”

Seungmin gave him a half-smile, before it darkened to something far eviler. “So…are you no longer a virgin now, or…?”

Jisung shrieked indignantly and lunged for Seungmin, who cackled and ran away. The two boys chased each other all the way back to their dorm, yelling threats and generally disturbing the public peace.

And Jisung realized, in between chasing Seungmin around an oak tree and launching a handful of dirt at him, that maybe there were a few people who cared about him besides Younghyun. And maybe Jisung cared about them, too.

And maybe that was enough.


	8. caught in the heat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me anytime something goes right in my fics: oh absolutely not, we cannot have that! allow me to fuck you over immediately   
> (there's your warning, folks!)
> 
> also can yall tell im running out of fire metaphors LOL these chapter titles getting worse and worse

“So…I take it the rally didn’t go well?”

The rest of the boys groaned at Jeongin’s hesitant question, all of them sprawled around their usual classroom a couple days after the rally. Jisung tucked himself into his chair a little tighter, looking around at them with a wry smile.

“Did you not hear what happened?” Hyunjin asked the youngest, who shrugged where he was sitting beside him against the wall.

“Seungmin told me the cops showed up,” Jeongin said. “But didn’t you expect that to happen?”

“Seungmin did not tell you the whole story,” Changbin groaned, leaning back in one of the desk chairs. “The cops got violent, and everything pretty much went to shit.”

“I told him that!” Seungmin protested. He shot a pointed look at Jeongin. “I even showed you the pictures.”

“Yes, but did you get the list of demands to the president?” Jeongin pressed. “That was the whole point, right?”

Minho sighed from where he was staring at the ceiling, tipped back in his chair. “No. The guards didn’t let me.”

He let his seat fall forward and cast a sharp glance over the room. “But that wasn’t the point. The point was to get people talking about the movement against the war…and people are talking.”

Chan nodded. “Yeah, even the teachers are talking about it. The rally may not have been a success, but it certainly wasn’t a failure.”

Seungmin leveled Minho with a searching look. “The real question is: what will you do next?”

Jisung bit his lip. He had been wondering that, too. How much further could they push?

Minho looked down at his hands for a long moment, before finally raising his head. His eyes met Jisung’s.

“I don’t think we should do anything right now,” he said after a moment, their gazes locked. “I think we need to regroup for a bit and then push back later.”

Jisung looked away, ashamed of the relief that spread through him at Minho’s words.

“Agreed,” Felix spoke up for the first time, smiling weakly.

Jisung felt his chest ache at the sight of a bandage across Felix’s cheek, no doubt an injury from when the other boy had been pushed down the stairs at the rally.

Jisung’s own head was still healing, the injured skin bruised and painful to touch.

He looked back to Minho, whose gaze seemed far away as the older boy stared out the window. Even if they slowed their efforts, the war would still rage on.

They didn’t have much time before it would get worse. And when that happened, they would have no choice to speak out.

_How much farther can you push…_

_before you get burned?_

Among Jisung’s many other problems, the rally had also presented him with a new one: Minho. He considered the older boy a good friend now, after so many nights of planning and Minho rescuing him twice already.

A good friend who he maybe sometimes dreamed about kissing. Maybe.

Which was a problem, obviously. Because Jisung couldn’t afford to be dreaming about a pretty boy, not when he needed to keep his scholarship so he wouldn’t be drafted and not get arrested for his anti-war sentiments and pray desperately that Younghyun would live.

Not when that pretty boy was so far out of Jisung’s reach that anything more was laughable.

And what he had now—eight boys and a moonlit classroom and helpless laughter—Jisung had never had something this precious before. He couldn’t let anything ruin it, especially his own feelings.

Most of the time, it was alright. Most of the time, Jisung went about his life and didn’t pay attention to the fire that was slowly eating up his insides. Most of the time, he was just grateful for the pieces of Minho that he had.

But when Minho smiled at him like a secret, when his eyes caught the light just so…the flames only consumed Jisung more.

So he burned.

“Hey, commie!”

Jisung rolled his eyes at the shout from behind him, clutching his satchel of books tighter as he sped up his pace. Students rushed around him in the hallway, all eager to leave the classroom and get outside into the afternoon autumn sun.

A hand landed on his shoulder, and Jisung spun around to glare at its owner. Neat dark hair, smug smile, and cold eyes looked back at him.

“Leave me the hell alone,” Jisung muttered, wrenching his shoulder out of Minhyuck’s grip.

Minhyuck fell into pace beside him easily, his legs several inches longer than Jisung’s. “I’m just trying to give you a friendly warning.”

Jisung scowled. “I think I’ll do just fine without your friendliness, thanks.”

Minhyuck shrugged easily. “Alright, if that’s how you feel…but just know that you should be careful of your older friend.”

Jisung narrowed his eyes. “What older friend?”

“The one who was ready to fight me for you,” Minhyuck said with a scoff.

Jisugn felt his breath hitch. _Minho._

Minhyuck stuck his hands in his pockets as they walked along, still pretending nonchalance. “He’s a lot closer to the war than you could ever imagine.”

Jisung’s heart stopped, but he forced himself to shake it off. Minhyuck was full of shit, he didn’t know anything—

“He might just rat you out, commie,” Minhyuck continued with a grin.

“What the hell are you on?” Jisung finally burst out, anger starting to warm his chest.

“Why do you think that little rally of yours went so wrong, so quickly?” Minhyuck asked, still grinning. “After all your careful planning?”

Jisung clenched his fists. “You know _nothing_ about him, that wasn’t his fault!”

Minhyuck shrugged, unbothered. “Suit yourself. But if you don’t want to get burned again, I would ask him what his father does for a living.”

And with that, he walked off down the hall.

Jisung watched his retreating back, stomach twisting. Minhyuck couldn’t know anything about Minho that Jisung didn’t already know…he couldn’t. He had to just be trying to rile Jisung up.

But the way Minho sometimes looked so distant, the deadliness in his eyes the first time they argued about the military, the fact that he had never mentioned his family…

Jisung clutched the strap of his satchel tighter.

There was only one way to find out for sure.

“Alright kids, time to get your asses to bed,” Chan called, looking pleased with himself as they shuffled out of the classroom.

Changbin gagged from where he was pulling on his coat. “Could you please not refer to us as your kids?”

Chan gasped, affronted. “How could you reject your own father like this?”

He sprung for Changbin, arms open wide to pin the younger boy in a hug, and Changbin ducked away with a giggle. Jisung watched them playfight from the doorway, grinning in spite of himself.

“Walk with me, freshie,” Minho said from beside him suddenly, and Jisung nodded with a nervous smile.

He hadn’t gotten to be alone with Minho since the night of the rally, and normally he would be tingling with flustered delight at Minho’s request. But instead, dread coated his insides. This would be his only chance for a while to find out the truth.

Jisung followed Minho down the stairs of the chemistry building, their footsteps echoing. He bit his lip, desperately reminding himself that Minhyuck had to be lying. This would just bring Jisung peace of mind, that was all.

Once they were outside in the night air, Minho drew in a deep breath and looked down to Jisung with a half-smile.

“You okay? You were quiet tonight,” he said.

Jisung looked away from the hint of concern in Minho’s eyes. “I’m fine, just a little tired.”

Minho hummed, apparently believing Jisung’s excuse. They walked on for a few moments in silence—until the anxiety swelling in Jisung’s blood reached a breaking point, and he could stand it no longer.

“Do you remember the guy who was…bothering me?” Jisung ventured at last, digging his fingers into the strap of his satchel.

Minho turned to him sharply, eyes suddenly steely. “What did he do? Do you want me to take care of him for good?”

Jisung laughed nervously. “No! No, um…he just told me something kind of weird. And I can’t stop thinking about it, that’s all.”

Minho frowned. “You can’t let him get to you, he’s just a dick.”

Jisung shook his head, looking away from Minho. “Hyung…it was about you.”

He felt Minho stiffen beside him, and they came to a stop on the path. Jisung kept his gaze on their feet as Minho turned towards him.

“He said…he said to ask you what your father does,” Jisung forced the words from his mouth.

He finally looked up in time to see Minho’s eyes flutter closed. The openness of the older boy’s features disappeared as his expression shuttered, and Jisung drew in a shaky breath.

“He’s—he’s full of shit, right?” Jisung whispered. “Please tell me he’s full of shit, hyung.”

Minho opened his eyes, and Jisung almost took a step back at the storm that was swirling in the older boy’s gaze. He was suddenly reminded of how intimidating Minho had seemed all those weeks ago when they met, his eyes on fire and starving for a fight.

But this wasn’t that boy Jisung had feared—this was Minho. Minho, who slipped Jisung steamed buns without saying a word and gave him his leather jacket when Jisung shivered and promised that they would fight for change, together.

“Fuck…well, you of all people deserve to know,” Minho said at last, his eyes pained. “Just—try to understand, please.”

Jisung nodded, his chest tightening in apprehension.

“My father…my father is General Lee,” Minho said slowly, painfully, as if each word were poison. “As in…the head general of the Korean military.”

_General Lee, famous for his ruthless military tactics and war hawk policies—_

_General Lee, one of the most outspoken advocates of the war—_

_General Lee, who ordered Younghyun and hundreds of thousands of other boys into battle every day—_

Jisung took a step back.

The world seemed to blur around them in his vision, leaving only Minho’s pained face in sharp focus.

Jisung took another step back, head swirling. Minho’s father was part of the reason Younghyun had been forced to leave—Minho’s father was part of the reason his brother could die.

_And Minho never even told you._

Jisung couldn’t seem to draw enough air into his lungs to breathe.

_I can’t breathe—_

“Jisung, I’m sorry,” Minho murmured, hand reaching out for him.

Jisung flinched away, and Minho dropped his hand with guilt blooming in his eyes.

“I know I should have told you, but I was so scared you wouldn’t understand…I felt so guilty, especially after you told me your brother is a soldier,” Minho continued, his voice shakier than Jisung had ever heard it.

Jisung shook his head slowly, the shock giving way to pain and betrayal coursing through him. And shame.

God, how could he have been so stupid…so selfish?

Younghyun could die any moment, and Jisung was falling for the son of the head general while his brother fought for his life.

He had _slept in the bed_ of the head general’s son while Younghyun was made into a killer.

Jisung took another step back, and another.

“Please, Jisung-ah,” Minho whispered, still looking at him with those goddamn eyes.

_Fire always catches in the end—_

Jisung found himself shaking his head.

“Don’t—don’t say my name,” he said, his own voice almost unrecognizable. “Just—don’t.”

And with that, Jisung turned and ran away from Lee Minho.

“And now, more news from the front lines of the conflict currently being waged between the Republic of South Korea and…”

Jisung tuned out the announcer’s voice droning from his beat-up transistor radio, lying on his bed to watch the fading sunlight dapple across his ceiling.

It had been exactly three days since he last saw Minho.

He hadn’t told any of their friends what happened, but Seungmin seemed to know something had changed without Jisung needing to tell him. The other boy had said nothing, but he’d been doing small things for Jisung, like loading their laundry together or making extra food.

It was highly uncharacteristic behavior for Seungmin, meaning he knew whatever had happened was bad.

Seungmin knowing something meant that Jeongin knew it, too, and probably Hyunjin by extension. Hyunjin and Seungmin had taken to spending hours in the dark room of the photography lab together, and Jisung knew they weren’t just in there “to develop photos.”

Jisung didn’t know what he would do the next time their group met up, which would probably be soon. He didn’t know what to say to Minho, didn’t even know what he was feeling himself.

He felt betrayed, yes, but it had never been Minho’s obligation to tell him what his father did. Minho had never outright lied…and yet, it still hurt.

Jisung knew his own shame was part of it as well, his hopeless crush and the even stupider hope that maybe it hadn’t been totally hopeless.

“…It seems our Korean forces have broken through even further into enemy territory! Here’s an update from our correspondent there now…”

A knock sounded at the door, and Jisung got up to find the mailcart lady wheeling away down the hall. He looked to his feet to find a stack of letters dropped at his doorway, and he sifted through them quickly, searching for…

_Kang Younghyun._

His stomach dropped, a dizzying mix of relief and terror swirling within Jisung as he stood up and backed into the room with the letter in hand.

Jisung ripped the letter open, eyes scanning the short lines.

_Hey, my favorite idiot brother…army life as boring as ever…how’s your music coming? have you finally convinced that Chan hyung to listen to more American hip-hop…_

_…One last thing: I want you to know that my platoon is moving to the front lines tomorrow. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I’ll be okay. Don’t worry, Sungie._

_Love from your favorite hyung,_

_Younghyun_

Jisung was on the floor before he realized he had moved.

He gripped the letter with trembling fingers, reading the scrawled words over and over again until their black shapes were painted onto the backs of his eyelids.

_The front lines—_

Younghyun would be where the combat really was, where people killed each other. It would be so easy for him to die now. So quick.

And Jisung wouldn’t even know when it happened.

His stomach twisted, and Jisung fisted a hand over his mouth as nausea rose within him. Would he lose his only brother to the war, just as he’d feared from its beginning?

_War is hell—_

Jisung closed his eyes, the letter falling from his grasp.

The sound of the door opening and someone coming in registered faintly as blood pounded in his head, rushing in his ears.

“Jisung—Jisung, what happened?” Seungmin’s voice was sharp with worry.

Jisung couldn’t bring himself to open his mouth, and just shook his head as his entire frame trembled. He felt Seungmin wrap his arms around Jisung’s body, and he leaned into the other boy unconsciously.

“It’s going to be okay,” Seungmin said fiercely, holding Jisung to him with surprising strength. “Everything will be okay.”

Jisung drew in a ragged breath, the air turning to a sob in his throat. A tear trickled down his cheek and landed in Seungmin’s sweater, and then another—until Jisung was outright crying into Seungmin’s chest.

The two boys sat on the floor as the sun set outside, each grasping onto the other as a war waged hundreds of miles away.

And Jisung began to pray once more, for his only brother to live.


	9. smoldering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think the reason I write so much angst is that my writing playlist is mostly emo indie shit, sooo there’s my excuse (: also here’s a random song rec that no one will listen to (it’s ok I don’t listen to the song recs other authors put in their fics either lmao) “pingye” by changmo
> 
> also ik jisung seems to be breaking down a lot about younghyun but I honestly think that’s realistic behavior given the worry and guilt he’s feeling all the time, especially as a teenager (he’s nineteen in this fic) and knowing how emotional real life Jisung is. just wanted to explain in case some ppl are feeling he’s ooc!

Jisung took a long drag of his cigarette, watching the sun rise over the mountains from his spot on a bench outside the dormitory.

He hadn’t been able to sleep much last night, like most nights. His dreams were filled with Younghyun; his brother was always too far away for Jisung to reach, no matter how hard he ran. No matter how loudly he yelled Younghyun’s name.

Jisung always jolted awake from these dreams covered in sweat and shaking with nerves. He’d resorted to smoking cigarettes, a habit of Changbin’s that he’d never really picked up until now.

He leaned forward, taking the last drag of his cigarette before crushing it in the nearest ashtray. Students were beginning to file out of the dorm, most likely heading to class or work. Jisung watched them through half-lidded eyes; a couple girls tucking locks of hair behind their ears as they giggled together and a guy jogging past with a briefcase in hand.

It all seemed so far away. Jisung felt so detached from this world where barely anyone was thinking about the war. The battlefield he’d painted in his mind seemed realer than the scene before him.

“Jisung.”

He looked up to see Seungmin suddenly standing in front of him, eyes sweeping over Jisung’s face and lips pressed into a thin line.

“Walk with me to class,” Seungmin said, phrasing it so there was no room for argument. He held out Jisung’s bag, which Jisung had purposefully left in the dorm with no intention of going to class.

Jisung sighed, getting to his feet and taking his bag from Seungmin. It would be harder to argue with his roommate at this point, so he resigned himself to another few hours of zoning out in class.

They fell into step beside each other as they started walking towards the main campus. Seungmin kept glancing at Jisung out of the corner of his eye, so Jisung was expecting it when the other boy spoke up a moment later.

“Are you coming tonight?” Seungmin asked without preamble.

Jisung kept his eyes on their feet. “I don’t really feel up to it, Seungmin...”

“Listen,” Seungmin cut him off, turning to hold Jisung in place. “I know you’re worried sick about your brother. But you’ve been acting like this for two weeks—you barely go to class, I never see you sleep, and you haven’t hung out with the group once. They all miss you.”

Jisung bit his lip, glancing from Seungmin’s determined gaze to the ground and back again. “I just…I don’t know.”

The thought of hanging out with everyone seemed impossibly daunting. Jisung could barely keep himself together on a day to day basis; how could he handle a social interaction with people he’d steadily avoided? And he especially didn’t know how to face Minho, not after how they’d left things. Not when he still had no idea what to feel or do.

But at the same time…Jisung missed them, too. He missed Chan’s quiet comfort and Changbin’s humor. He missed Felix’s kindness and easy conversations with Hyunjin. He missed teasing Seungmin and Jeongin’s laughter.

He missed Minho’s everything, so much that it ached.

But every time Minho’s eyes appeared in his mind, they were always followed by the look on his face when he told Jisung his father was General Lee.

And every time, the guilt and shame welled in Jisung once more. Minho probably thought Jisung hated him. Minho might hate Jisung, too.

“It would help for you to see everyone,” Seungmin wheedled. “You can’t avoid them forever.”

Jisung inhaled shakily. “Seungmin, they probably don’t even want to see me.”

He didn’t say Minho’s name, but he knew Seungmin understood what he really meant.

“That’s not true at all,” Seungmin said fiercely. “You know what? I’m tired of this—you don’t have a choice. I’ll drag you there tonight if I have to.”

Jisung gaped at the other boy, who was looking satisfied with his decision.

“Now I have to head to class, so I’ll see you tonight,” Seungmin said promptly, before turning and whisking away across the quad.

Jisung watched him go, a pool of dread already swirling in his stomach.

That evening found Jisung trudging up the steps of the chemistry building, anxiety coiled tightly in his stomach. Seungmin had told him to be at the usual spot or else he could kiss free meals goodbye, and Jisung wasn’t prepared to starve just yet.

He was hoping everyone would let him off with a half-assed apology and then let him sit there without participating at all. Which…would definitely not be the case, but Jisung could hope.

He swung open the door…and was met with an empty classroom.

Jisung tilted his head in confusion. Where was everyone? Seungmin had said he was already here, and it was past the time for everyone else to get there.

_Strange…_

“Jisung?”

Jisung whirled around to see Minho standing behind him, eyes wide with surprise.

“Um—hi?” Jisung stammered at last, glancing away from Minho’s face quickly.

_God_ , he had forgotten how good Minho always looked—trademark denim jeans hugging his legs, his tanned skin shining under the light…

Minho looked past him into the empty classroom. “Where is everyone?”

Jisung shrugged, turning and walking into the room to put a little distance between them. “Don’t know. Seungmin told me to come at this time.”

Minho followed him hesitantly, dropping his bag on a nearby desk and taking a seat as he watched Jisung do the same, several desks away from him.

“Yeah, Seungmin told me to come here at this time too…” Minho said, before trailing off and sitting upright in realization. “Wait a minute, do you think he—”

“Told us to meet here and then told everyone else not to come? Yes, that is absolutely something he would do,” Jisung finished the thought with a defeated sigh, leaning back in his chair. “Goddamn him.”

Minho let out a disbelieving laugh. “Shit, I’m kind of impressed.”

The room fell into an awkward silence as both boys looked anywhere but each other.

“Jisung…I want to apologize again,” Minho started hesitantly.

Jisung shook his head. “Hyung, don’t start.”

“No, I will,” Minho cut him off, eyes suddenly fierce. “Jisung, you have to let me apologize. Please.”

“You already have,” Jisung muttered. “I don’t need to hear it again.”

Minho stood and walked over to stand in front of Jisung’s chair. “You do, because you still haven’t forgiven me. And I’m going to keep apologizing until you do.”

Jisung just looked away, and Minho continued. “I’ve given you space…for two weeks! I’m trying my best here, but you have to at least hear me out.”

He bent to catch Jisung’s eyes, his gaze determined. “Yes, my father is part of the reason so many people have died in this fucking war. But I’m not like him, Jisung. You can’t blame me for his actions.”

Minho ran a hand through his hair, exhaling and looking out the window. “Trust me, I know better than anyone how horrible he is and how pointless this fucking war is. That’s why I’ve been fighting so hard to oppose it.”

Jisung worried at the hem of his shirt, emotions swirling within him. He knew Minho was right, he knew Minho deserved his forgiveness—but Younghyun’s face flashed in his mind, and the guilt came pouring back again.

What would Younghyun think, if he knew his little brother dreamed of being with the general’s son?

The guilt crashed over Jisung in shuddering waves, and he faltered under its weight. The only way he knew how to bear the guilt was to stay away from Minho. It was all he could do.

But before he could force himself to leave…Minhyuck’s face appeared in his mind.

_“Why do you think that little rally of yours went so wrong, so quickly?”_

He hadn’t thought twice about denying it at the time…but Minhyuck had proved Jisung knew nothing about Minho.

“Tell me the truth: did you sabotage the rally?” Jisung asked, clenching his fingers in his shirt so tightly they ached.

Minho whirled around to stare at Jisung in shock, fists clenching and unclenching as he took a step closer to the younger boy.

“Do you—is that really what you think of me now?” Minho whispered. Hurt filled his eyes. “Is that who you think I am?”

Jisung closed his eyes, unable to bear the pain in Minho’s gaze. “I have to know for sure.”

“Fuck, of course I didn’t!” Minho burst out, striding forwards to stand right in front of Jisung. “Shit, Jisung—don’t you trust me at all?”

Jisung opened his eyes, anger starting to smolder within him. “Trust you? Oh, like you trusted me with your secret?”

Minho turned away, chest still heaving with the effort to compose himself. “That’s different, and you fucking know it.”

“No, I fucking don’t,” Jisung retorted, rising to stand in front of Minho. “Why would you lie to me?”

“Because I knew you would react like this,” Minho growled, gesturing between them. “I knew you would be like this.”

“Don’t you dare make this my fault,” Jisung hissed, angry tears blurring his vision. He drew in a steadying breath, trying to regain control of himself. “Who else have you told?”

Minho crossed his arms, looking away. “Hyunjin and Felix. Chan figured it out himself. But I don’t really go around bragging about it, for obvious reasons.”

Jisung wrapped his arms around himself, trying in vain to swallow back his tears. Of course Hyunjin and Felix knew—the perfect trio, best friends who were beautiful and better than everyone else. Of course Minho trusted them more than Jisung.

Minho caught sight of his tears, and softened slightly. “Jisung-ah, don’t make this about more than it needs to be. I was scared of hurting you, and I was stupid because of it. I’m _sorry_. Let’s be friends again.”

_Friends—_

Jisung drew in a shaky breath, hugging himself tighter. He had been so selfish, dreaming about kissing Minho while his brother fought to survive. Jisung didn’t deserve this life—not if Younghyung couldn’t have it, too.

There was only one thing he could do.

“I can’t…I can’t be around you anymore,” Jisung whispered, afraid to look up and see the pain in Minho’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Minho-hyung.”

And with that, he grabbed his backpack and ran from the classroom, vision blurred with tears and head pounding.

Life after that night was numb.

Jisung went back to his detached bubble, punctuated at times with Seungmin yelling at him to get his shit together. He avoided the rec center on campus, because that was where the dance team practiced, and all of Minho’s usual hangout spots.

Chan and Changbin tried to get Jisung to open up about whatever happened with him and Minho when the three were composing together, but that always ended in Jisung leaving when it got too much. So they gave up after a while, restricting themselves to worried looks in his direction and whispered conversations.

Jisung was left to his own devices most of the time, smoking cigarettes and listening to the news obsessively for any news of the front lines.

He barely saw Hyunjin and Felix, the two boys always kind to him but obviously unsure of how to act around him. Jeongin actually gave Jisung hugs unprompted when he visited, proving just how much he pitied Jisung.

It made Jisung sick. He didn’t deserve friends who helped him like this, not after how he’d treated Minho. But he couldn’t make himself stay away from them entirely, and it was impossible to do so with Seungmin.

So he kept waking up shaking from nightmares, kept smoking cigarettes and sitting in class and listening to the news. Living from day to day.

And maybe Jisung would have continued the rest of the semester like this, totally apart from Minho and half apart from the world around him—if it hadn’t been for the government of the Republic of Korea.

He hadn’t slept in two days when it happened.

Jisung had taken to walking around the campus at night, portable radio tuned to the news and eyes blurry with fatigue as he forced himself to walk until he was exhausted. It helped with the nightmares, sometimes.

The moon was unusually bright overhead, and Jisung drew in a deep breath as he walked between two dormitories. For a moment, his chest relaxed and Jisung felt almost peaceful.

And then from his radio…

_“Breaking news from the current conflict: enemy forces have overwhelmed all Korean stations at the front lines and are pushing the line of combat closer to Korean territory—”_

_All Korean stations—_

_Overwhelmed—_

Jisung froze, unable to take a breath as he listened intently. Younghyun was on the front lines—did overwhelmed mean defeated? A prisoner of war? Injured? Dead?

Jisung sank to the ground, legs weak. His head pounded, the constant exhaustion and anxiety of the past couple weeks welling up inside him. How much longer could he take this? How much longer until Younghyun could come home?

It had been over a year already. Jisung was just so _tired._

Tears slipped down his cheeks, and Jisung let himself cry there: sitting on the grounds of his school at night, unable to help his brother while powerful men who didn’t know he existed got to decide Younghyun’s fate.

So _powerless—_

“Jisung, is that you?”

_Oh god, please let it not be him—_

Jisung lifted his head just enough to see Minho standing in front of him, dressed in exercise clothes and no doubt on his way home from a late-night dance practice.

Jisung would have laughed, if he weren’t trying so hard not to sob.

Of course. Minho always found him at his weakest moments—why should this night be any different?

He dropped his head back in his hands with a muffled sob.

Maybe if he didn’t say anything, Minho would just keep walking. Maybe they would keep avoiding each other as they had done for the past couple weeks. Maybe Minho didn’t give a shit about Jisung, something he never should have done from the beginning.

“Oh, Jisung-ah,” Minho said quietly, sadly.

And all of a sudden, there were strong arms wrapping around Jisung’s frame and pulling him forwards to lean against a warm chest. Jisung’s breath caught in disbelief—but Minho’s warmth was already soothing Jisung’s shaking body, and he couldn’t make himself pull away.

Jisung curled a little closer to Minho instead, hesitantly wrapping his own arms around the other boy’s torso. He hadn’t realized how much he missed Minho until that moment, surrounded by the other boy. He had forgotten how utterly addicting it was to be near Minho.

Minho made a comforting noise, one hand coming up to cup around Jisung’s neck protectively.

“It’s okay, Jisungie,” he whispered. “Let it out.”

Jisung bit his lip, struggling to hold back his sobs. He didn’t want Minho to see him like this—a weak little boy, torn apart by his own self-loathing. But it was _so_ hard to hold himself together when Minho held him like there was nothing in the world that could touch them.

Like there was nothing in the world that could make Minho let him go.

Suddenly, their fight seemed so far away, insignificant in the face of all that could happen. Jisung had already lost one person who made up his world—how many more would he let himself give up?

_Not this one,_ Jisung found himself thinking fiercely. _Not him, not this time. Not ever._

“I’m sorry,” Jisung mumbled into the crook of Minho’s neck, apologizing for so much more than that moment. “So sorry, hyung.”

_Sorry for hurting you, sorry for blaming you, sorry for doubting you—_

“No need for that,” Minho hushed him. “Just let hyung hold you. It’s okay.”

So Jisung finally let himself break apart, there in Minho’s arms—and Minho held his shaking pieces together.

And just as all the times before, Jisung failed once more at staying away from Lee Minho.

But failure had never felt so right.


	10. stoking the fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> starting the chapter with fluff bc we deserve it, goddamnit! sorry about the late update, I had actual writing to do this weekend instead of fun writing but here it is at last (: finally leading up the scene that I wrote this entire fic for lol
> 
> also I got a comment on another fic asking for socials so in case anyone here cares my twt is @timeoftheblue. but honestly my twt is not cool at all lol I deliver zero good content and took a hiatus for half a year before quarantine so I wasn’t active for forever but whatever

Bare branches waved under the cloudy sky, the sun peeking out every now and then. Jisung shivered at the chill of the breeze, pulling his jacket a little tighter around himself as he lay beneath the oak tree. Winter was coming at last.

Suddenly, the view of the branches overhead was blocked out by a face—an infectious smile, cat-like eyes glimmering in amusement, and golden-brown hair that was just a little too long to be proper.

_Minho_.

Jisung grinned back almost without meaning to, rolling upright to see Minho sitting down beside him.

It felt good, to return Minho’s smiles so easily. Since Minho had found Jisung crying on that night a few days ago, the ice between them had melted completely. Jisung was achingly glad for it.

_How many more people will you lose?_

_Not this one_ , Jisung had thought then, and thought now. _Not Minho._

“What are you doing here, hyung?” Jisung asked, brushing leaves off his jacket.

Instead of answering, Minho leaned over and ran his fingers through Jisung’s hair lightly. Jisung’s breath caught and he looked up at Minho in surprise, but the older boy just smiled and held up the leaf he had plucked from Jisung’s head.

“Saw you sitting here all alone and full of poetic angst, so I figured I would drop by,” Minho responded belatedly with a smirk.

Jisung rolled his eyes. Minho had found out Jisung’s second major was music composition, and he had delighted in teasing Jisung about his supposed tortured artist image ever since.

“I don’t know why you think being a dance major is even a little bit cooler,” Jisung shot back.

Minho leaned back on his elbows, grinning at the sky. “It obviously is. Have you even seen me dance?”

Jisung looked down hurriedly, cheeks pinking at the thought. “…No.”

Normal, everyday Minho was damning enough—but a Minho moving his body to the beat of a song, a Minho who was purposeful in his every motion…it was too much for Jisung to consider.

“You should come by the rec hall and see me sometime,” Minho offered casually. “Might even teach you a move or two.”

Jisung looked at the older boy in horror. “Definitely not.”

Minho just laughed. “How rude of you!”

Jisung smiled in spite of himself at the musical sound of Minho’s laughter. It felt almost unreal, to sit with the older boy so freely after not speaking to each other for weeks. But Minho wasn’t one to hold grudges, as Jisung had found out.

After a few moments, the older boy rolled upright to knock his shoulder against Jisung’s. “Hey, how have you been with…everything?”

Jisung turned to look at Minho, whose gaze was directed at the ground. It was so unlike him to be anything but blunt. He knew Minho was only trying to not upset Jisung, but it hurt to think Minho still saw him as someone to tiptoe around.

“You know you can ask about my brother, right?” Jisung said, a tad sharply. “I won’t break.”

Minho met Jisung’s gaze at last. “I know, it’s just…our discussions about your brother—or the war in general, really—never seem to go well.”

Minho sighed. “I just don’t want to mess up things between us again, that’s all.”

Jisung shook his head, leaning towards Minho unconsciously. “Don’t worry about that, hyung. I said I was sorry for pushing you away, and I meant it.”

He looked down, twisting his hands in his lap. “And Younghyun is more than just the war. Talking about him doesn’t have to mean talking about the war.”

“Of course he is,” Minho said at once. “Then…would you tell me about him, for real?”

Jisung chanced a glance up at Minho, who was looking at him intently. Jisung bit his lip, thinking carefully. No one had asked him to talk about Younghyun apart from the war in a long time.

“Younghyun was always the popular kid,” Jisung started tentatively. “I never managed to make friends as easily as him—a combination of being too shy and too outgoing. But he always let me play with him and his friends, even though I was younger.”

Jisung tugged at the grass, memories flitting through his mind. “He was—still is—really cool. I loved telling people at school he was my brother…and he loves music. He always used to play this beat-up old bass he’d bought with his own money.”

An image of Younghyun on his bed, eyes closed in concentration as he picked out a gentle melody on his bass, flashed in Jisung’s mind.

“It took him years to save up for that bass,” Jisung said quietly. “Now it just sits at home.”

“What does he think of you majoring in music, then?” Minho asked after a moment, his own voice soft.

Jisung smiled at that. “He’s really happy. He constantly asks me about it in his letters.”

They were quiet for a few moments, the branches rustling above them.

“I miss him a lot,” Jisung whispered at last. He felt Minho press against his side, and Jisung leaned into the older boy’s warmth readily.

“I’m sorry, Jisung-ah,” came the low voice.

Jisung shook his head against Minho’s shoulder. “Not your fault.”

He pulled away to look at Minho, desperate to change the subject before he started crying on Minho for the third time. “Do you have any siblings?”

Minho glanced away at that, bitterness twisting his lips. “No.”

Jisung waited, and Minho continued after a moment. “I always wanted a younger sibling to play with, but my parents were too busy for another kid.”

Minho trailed his fingers through the glass. “Too busy with politics and military affairs for even one kid, really.”

Their gazes met at last, and Jisung’s chest tightened at the simmering anger in Minho’s eyes. “They raised me to be part of the military, actually. I took extra classes on military tactics and war history after school, went to junior officer training for years, until…”

Minho trailed off, shaking his head before he continued. “Until I got sick of it.”

He shrugged. “And now I’m here, studying political science. They’re not exactly happy with their kid being a scholar instead of a soldier, but at least my studies relate to their plans for me. Little do they know I’m protesting the very war they’ve spent their careers preparing for.”

_Lee Minho is not a pacifist—_

“Damn,” Jisung breathed.

“Yeah,” Minho said wryly. “One benefit of parents who don’t give a shit: they don’t know what you’re up to. They would flip their shit if they knew I was majoring in dance, too.”

Jisung smiled. “It’s pretty cool that you managed to make your own way, hyung.”

Minho’s eyes darkened at his words. “Not at all. It’s because of people like them that people like your brother aren’t living out their dreams right now. And I almost turned out the exact same way.”

Jisung shook his head, grasping Minho’s hand before he could talk himself out of it. Minho looked at him in surprise, but Jisung started talking in a rush. “But you didn’t turn out the same way, Minho-hyung. You led a rally opposing the war, and…you’re going to do even more.”

Minho looked at him questioningly. “More?”

Jisung scoffed lightly. “Do you think I don’t know you well enough to know you won’t stop until this war is over?”

A smile tugged at Minho’s lips at last, and Jisung leaned away in triumph.

“And for me…protesting with you and everyone else is the first time I haven’t felt totally powerless in this war,” Jisung said after a moment, squeezing his eyes shut at the admission.

“I wanted to do something _real_ , for so long,” he murmured. “I still do.”

Jisung opened his eyes to see Minho was looking at him as if the rest of the world had fallen away.

“We will do something real,” Minho said fiercely. “We will, I promise you.”

Jisung felt a smile flutter across his lips. “I believe you, hyung. And I’m ready to try again.”

He hadn’t known for sure until he said the words out loud—but it was true. Jisung was ready to keep fighting for Younghyun.

“Jisung-ah…that last rally got so dangerous, and I know you’re still worried about your brother,” Minho started, but Jisung cut him off with a shake of his head.

“Doing something, anything that might help my brother, is the only thing that makes me feel better,” Jisung said firmly. “I know you said we should take time to regroup before planning something else, but it’s been weeks. I’m telling you now—I’m ready.”

The sun turned Minho’s eyes into pools of gold as he held Jisung’s gaze for a long moment. Jisung let their shared heat stream into his blood as Minho leaned forward to bring their faces slightly closer.

“Okay, Jisung-ah. Then we’ll try again.”

“Well, well, well…look who decided to grace us with his presence!”

Jisung rolled his eyes at Changbin’s jab, dropping into a seat next to the older boy in the classroom. He looked around to see Chan and Felix were sitting nearby as well, heads bent together in conversation. Hyunjin was sitting over by the window with Jeongin—it seemed the two had hit it off in Jisung’s absence.

Felix looked up at Jisung with a bright smile. “Ignore Binnie-hyung, it’s good to see you here again!”

Jisung smiled back at Felix gratefully, before turning and mouthing, “ _Binnie-hyung_?” at Changbin. The older boy gave him a murderous look, cheeks pinking.

Jisung grinned to himself—he had almost forgotten how fun it was to tease Changbin, after so many weeks of just dodging the older boy’s concerned questions veiled in indifference.

“I missed you the most, Lixie,” Jisung proclaimed, jumping up to throw his arms around Felix. The blond just laughed and accepted the hug easily. Jisung stuck his tongue out at Changbin over Felix’s shoulder, and the older boy drew his finger across his throat in a threatening motion.

“Woah, where was this affection for your favorite hyung?” Chan chimed in, pretending to be hurt.

Jisung wrinkled his nose as he released Felix. “Who said you were my favorite hyung?”

Chan shrugged. “Well, your only other options are Bin, or…”

“What’s up, fuckers?” Minho called, striding into the room.

“Him,” Chan finished with a sigh.

Jisung latched onto Chan’s arm. “Okay, you’re definitely my favorite.”

Minho’s eyes narrowed at them. “Hey, what’s going on over there?”

“Just picking my favorite hyung,” Jisung answered him cheekily.

Minho scowled at them and opened his mouth to protest—but Hyunjin beat him to it.

“Wait, where’s Seungmin?” Hyunjin asked.

Jisung shrugged. “He said he’d be here.”

The door swung open without warning to reveal a flushed, disarrayed Seungmin. His chest was heaving with exertion, and his camera swung around his neck dangerously as he thrust a newspaper at them. They stared at him in shock—neat, prim Seungmin had never seemed so out of sorts.

“They’re coming here to recruit!” Seungmin cried.

“What?” Minho’s voice was dangerous as he rose from his seat, and Seungmin strode into the room further.

“The military—apparently the last round of drafts didn’t get enough people, so they’re coming to colleges now,” Seungmin explained breathlessly. “They can’t draft us directly because we’re students, but they’ll be all over the student union building, probably harassing people about not being patriotic enough.”

“They can’t be serious—they’re going to be all over the entire the student union building?” Chan asked disbelievingly, taking the newspaper from Seungmin to scan the words.

The rest of the boys crowded around Chan, reading over his shoulder. Sure enough, stark black letters marched across the page, telling them that representatives of the South Korean military would be at their school in a few weeks.

Jisung found himself backing away, the words running through his head as he let himself fall into a seat. Seeing soldiers every day—a reminder of his brother fighting every day—seemed like a nightmare.

“How could the university do this?” Changbin muttered angrily. “Can’t they even pretend to stay neutral?”

“Powerful donors in the military,” Minho answered darkly.

Hyunjin came up beside Seungmin to touch the other boy’s elbow lightly. “Seungmin-ah, did you run all the way here?”

Seungmin nodded, breathing slowing at last. Hyunjin hummed in acknowledgement and straightened the collar of Seungmin’s button up as if he’d done it a thousand times before—even though Seungmin’s clothing was usually in perfect condition.

Jisung caught a blush darkening Seungmin’s cheeks, and he felt a tinge of gratefulness for Hyunjin distracting Seungmin from the news that he’d worked himself into a frenzy over.

“What are you going to do now?” came a quiet voice, and they all turned to see Jeongin gazing at them with uncharacteristic worry shining in his dark eyes.

There was an uncomfortable silence for a moment as they contemplated where to even begin—until Minho broke it with a chuckle.

They all turned to him in disbelief to see Minho crossing his arms and leveling them all with a triumphant look.

“I’m glad they’re coming, actually,” he said. “I’ve been wanting to do something like this for a while, and this is the perfect excuse.”

“What do you mean, Minho?” Chan asked after a moment of stunned silence.

Minho’s eyes flashed with something like a hungry anticipation, and Jisung felt his chest tighten in apprehension.

“We’re going to occupy a university building,” he answered.

_Oh fuck—_ Jisung felt his knees go weak. This had to be a joke somehow.

An outcry of shock rang around the room, and Minho raised his hand to quiet them.

“Don’t worry, I have a plan,” he said. “I heard about students occupying buildings at a couple of the more liberal universities, and I’ve wanted to do that here ever since. It got their administrations to really pay attention for the first time.”

He grinned darkly. “And now I have the perfect reason. Let’s occupy the student union building.”

“Fuck, Minho-hyung’s finally gone insane,” Hyunjin moaned.

“I’m perfectly sane,” Minho snapped. “Now, are you lot going to do this with me or not?”

“How would eight of us manage to occupy an entire building?” Chan asked incredulously.

Minho sighed. “We would get help, obviously. Like the rally—spread the word and all that. I know there are a lot of students who would support us.”

Felix looked troubled. “I don’t know, hyung…with the way the rally went?”

“But that was weeks ago, and the war’s only gotten worse,” Minho said determinedly. “People are angry—lots of people, not just us. We’re not the only ones who care.”

His gaze shifted to Jisung. “We’re not the only ones who want to do something real.”

Jisung bit his lip, holding Minho’s gaze for a moment before looking away. Damn him for bringing that up—Jisung hadn’t been lying when he said that, but he still feared getting arrested and ruining his chance at a life outside the war. Occupying a university building was even more dangerous than a rally.

Minho leaned forwards, looking each of them in the eyes. “Listen, when have I ever lied to you? This is important. This will make a statement they can’t ignore.”

“He’s right,” Seungmin spoke up suddenly, eyes hard. “The story about the protest sold every copy of the student newspaper—but real newspapers would take notice if you occupied a building.”

Minho nodded. “So…who’s with me?”

The rest of the boys looked around at each other, finding reflections of worry, fear, and…gradual resolve forming in each other’s eyes.

Jisung met Minho’s gaze, and the older boy’s eyes set a challenge before him. Jisung bit his lip, and made his decision.

“Let’s do it,” he said quietly.

The other boys turned to look at him, and he saw concern in each of their faces.

“Younghyun wouldn’t want me to,” Jisung said with a sigh. “He would think it was too dangerous for me—but he would do it himself with a second thought.”

He clenched his fists, steeling himself. “And that’s why we have to.”

There was a moment of silence, and Jisung looked up to see Minho was watching him with something like pride burning in his eyes.

“Then it’s decided,” Minho murmured, still staring at Jisung.

“Hey, what about the rest of us?” Changbin protested.

Minho turned to grin at Changbin challengingly. “Well?”

“We’re in, goddamnit,” Chan said with a sigh. “We’re all in.”

Minho threw his fist in the air with a cheer, and Jisung found himself grinning in spite of everything.

Maybe they weren’t so powerless after all.


	11. flickering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for missing last week’s update! I know y’all keep telling me not to apologize but I still feel bad lol anyways here’s the newest update (: also peep the chapter count, I think I’ve finally figured out a rough plan for the rest of the story…
> 
> neways idk if any of y’all have ever occupied a building before but I’m just going off what my grandpa told me about how his time occupying a university building so…doing my best. also fun fact his occupation was in protest of the Vietnam war as well and he got arrested for it! lol that's not a spoiler for this fic i just think it's kinda ironic

“Lix, come look at this for a second.”

Jisung watched Felix stride over to slide into the seat next to Changbin, their heads leaning towards each other immediately as the two boys looked at the papers Changbin had laid out on the desk. He smiled at the familiar sight, admittedly impressed that Changbin had gotten so good at being around his crush.

It probably had something to do with how well the two clicked from the start. Changbin took Felix and his ideas seriously, unlike most—and Felix appreciated Changbin’s humor and quirks instead of just tolerating them. 

Felix glanced up at Changbin and seemed to realize their proximity, cheeks pinking as he leaned a bit away and looked back down at the paper quickly.

Jisung smirked—it was starting to look like Changbin’s crush wasn’t so hopeless, either.

He waited until Felix left Changbin’s side to ask Hyunjin a question, and scooted over to Changbin.

“So, when are you going to ask him out?” Jisung asked lowly, still smirking.

Changbin’s cheeks colored immediately as he glared at Jisung. “Try never.”

Jisung rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on—it’s Felix! You’ve been pining over him all semester.”

Changbin’s gaze flitted to where Felix was leaning against the wall with Hyunjin, a small smile curling his lips and the dim lighting making his blond hair shine.

“I just can’t,” Changbin said with a sigh.

Jisung socked him in the arm, ignoring Changbin’s gasp of outrage. “Don’t start acting all pitiful on me now! You should, before the occupation starts.”

Both boys stiffened as the words left Jisung’s mouth, and he wanted to kick himself for reminding them of the task that lay before them. This was the group’s fifth night of planning for the occupation, and they had all thought of little else since agreeing to do it.

Changbin’s eyes turned thoughtful. “We’ll see,” was all he said, before leveling Jisung with a smirk of his own. “Actually, I’ll do it if you ask Minho out.”

Jisung gaped at him, face growing hot. “What—what do you mean?”

Changbin scoffed. “Are you really going to play dumb with me?”

Jisung looked over to where Minho and Chan were sitting together at the front of the classroom, deep in conversation. He and Minho had gotten a lot closer, but—asking him out was unimaginable to Jisung.

Minho always seemed so far out of reach. Jisung felt lucky to have as much of Minho as he did—how could he let himself hope for more?

Changbin shook his head at Jisung. “Hopeless.”

Jisung was just about to retort—when Minho called out, “Alright, gang! Let’s wrap this up. Updates?”

“Felix and I have an idea for getting the word out without alerting the admin,” Changbin spoke up. “The notices in the residence halls will be fine as long as we make them seem like advertisements for a normal student event, but we think in-person recruitment is a good idea as well.”

“Not conspicuously, just bringing it up in trusted circles and letting it spread by word of mouth,” Felix clarified. “Going to meetings of clubs who might be friendly to the cause, spreading it through Seungmin’s reporting staff, stuff like that.”

Minho nodded. “That’s a good idea, guys. You can go ahead and make the notices. And Seungmin, are you okay with that?”

Seungmin nodded. “Absolutely. Most are in support of us anyways, even if they can’t say so in their articles.”

Hyunjin stepped forward with a smile in Seungmin’s direction. “Seungminnie and I have been looking at the security system, and we think we can fiddle with the security cameras enough to allow time for everyone to get in the building before security realizes.”

Jisung caught Seungmin’s eyes and raised his eyebrows. _Seungminnie, huh?_

Seungmin sent him a murderous look before glancing away pointedly.

“Speaking of getting in…I got the staff schedules,” Chan spoke up from the corner with a wicked grin. “I’m sure the cleaning staff would alert someone if they saw a huge number of students entering the building, so it would be better to do it between shifts—which puts us at an entrance time of 8 a.m., give or take a few minutes.”

The other seven boys looked at him for a moment in shock, before grins spread over their faces.

“Chan-hyung, you seriously got their schedules? Who did you need to murder for that?” Minho asked.

Chan shrugged, clearly pleased with himself. “It was nothing a bit of sweet-talking from a well-connected senior couldn’t do.”

“This practically makes you cool, hyung!” Jisung teased.

Chan scoffed. “Excuse you, I was always cool.”

“This is _really_ cool, though!” Jeongin spoke up, eyes wide with excitement. “Hyung, this is exactly what you guys needed.”

“It is,” Minho agreed.

Chan smiled at Jeongin’s excitement, tugging the younger boy over to give him a reluctantly received hug.

“So it’s decided, then—we enter at 8 the day before the soldiers are supposed to get here,” Minho said after a moment, excitement coloring his voice. “And we stay until they force us to leave.”

Jisung couldn’t hold back a shiver at Minho’s words. It was really happening—they were going to occupy a building. He tried very hard not to think about how most occupation ended in mass arrests.

This was something they had to do, and he was set on it.

_I want to do something real—_

Minho’s eyes caught his from across the room, and he gave Jisung a slow nod. A reassurance.

Jisung took a deep breath, steeling himself. Now they just needed to get people to show up.

“And that concludes our discussion on Mahler’s fifth symphony.”

Jisung got up along with the other students in the classroom once their professor finished speaking, eager to feel the afternoon sunlight on his skin and get some studying done before for planning with the group that evening. 

“Hey, Jisung-ssi,” came a voice to his left.

Jisung turned to see a couple guys and a girl standing next to him, classmates he’d seen but never interacted with before. Their faces didn’t give much away—the three sported neutral expressions as they watched him straighten up. 

“Can I help you?” he asked slowly.

The guy who had spoken exchanged looks with his friends, before giving Jisung a pointed look. “See you at the student union next week, right?”

Jisung stiffened, immediately on guard. Was this a warning?

The girl seemed to notice his tension. “Don’t worry, we’ll be there as supporters,” she said quickly, a genuine smile spreading over her face. “8 a.m. See you at the union.”

Jisung raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Oh, yeah. See you there. Uh—thanks for coming, by the way.”

The three just nodded at him and walked off, leaving Jisung to stare after them. So Changbin and Felix’s idea had worked—the word was spreading after all.

A knot of excitement and anxiety twisted itself tightly in his stomach, and he shouldered his bag before walking out of the classroom quickly. He didn’t know how they knew he was involved, but he figured word had gotten out about who the planners were, too. The thought made him uneasy.

After that, it kept happening. Classmates came up to Jisung after class and random students stopped him on the quad—all of them saying “See you at the union,” before going on their way.

The murmured words spread through the student body like the wildfire they were—lighting up the school with no sign of stopping.

And through it all, the eight boys kept planning—and Jisung dared to hope that maybe this insane idea would work after all.

He just had to pray he wouldn’t get arrested.

Anxiety grew within Jisung as the day of the occupation grew closer, twisting its way along his ribcage until every breath came with a tinge of pain. He did his best to hide it from the other boys, not wanting his fears to poison their relationship again.

He was so tired of running from the people he cared about.

And they couldn’t afford any weakness this time, not with so much at stake. So Jisung did his part as best he could, wrapping his anxiety up tightly in a box to only unpack late at night when Seungmin was asleep. That was when he laid awake and thought of moonlit classrooms and Minho’s eyes, all the things he might lose.

He turned each one over in his head, locked them deep within his chest for safekeeping—the precious things of his life. And that was almost enough.

Almost.

“Could you stay after for a bit?”

Jisung looked up to see Minho next to him, expression carefully nonchalant. The rest of the boys were wrapping up their last night of planning—the occupation would happen the day after tomorrow, and Chan had pointed out that resting the night before was important.

Jisung finished packing up his bag and turned to Minho with a hesitant nod.

“I’ll be home later,” he said to Seungmin’s questioning gaze, and waved goodbye to the others—who all gave him and Minho knowing looks.

Minho turned to him once the classroom was quiet. “Come on, I want to show you something.”

Jisung swallowed hard but followed Minho without question, the older boy leading him up the old staircase and stopping before a gray door at the top. The top hallway was barely lit, and Jisung took a small step closer to Minho as the older boy fiddled with the lock of the door.

“Alright, here we are,” Minho murmured.

Jisung turned to see Minho swing open the door, and his breath caught at the view on the other side. They were on the roof of the chemistry building, the campus and the city spreading away beneath them under the silvery light of the moon.

He took a few careful steps out onto the roof, gaping at the view as Minho watched him with a grin.

“Have you ever been up here before?” Minho asked.

Jisung shook his head, eyes still caught on city lights. He could see all the way to the eastern mountains, and the stars seemed almost close enough to touch.

“It’s beautiful,” he said breathlessly, turning to Minho at last.

Minho just shrugged, looking distinctly pleased with himself. “I thought you might like it, all romantic and pretty like your songs.”

Jisung was torn between embarrassment and indignation, choosing to reach out and swat Minho lightly instead. “Hey, not all my songs are sappy and romantic.”

He ignored how his insides warmed at Minho calling his songs “ _pretty.”_

Minho just chuckled, spreading out his jacket on the concrete and taking a seat. Jisung followed suit, taking furtive glances at how the moon’s silvery light glimmered on Minho’s cheekbones.

They were content to sit in silence for a couple moments, before Minho finally drew in a breath and turned to Jisung. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

Jisung’s eyes widened. “Um—what do you mean?”

_Please don’t say you know about my crush,_ he thought desperately. _Please, anything but that._

Minho looked back at the city, seeming to choose his words carefully. “I can tell when you’re more on edge than usual. I know we’re all on edge with the occupation so close, but—I don’t know. It feels like there’s something more going on with you.”

Jisung bit his lip, relief and dread mixing within him. So Minho had noticed how anxious he was after all. It wasn’t exactly surprising, given how much closer all the other boys watched him nowadays.

Minho caught his eyes with a tentative smile. “Am I right?”

Jisung looked away, torn between the softness of Minho’s eyes and the part of Jisung that whispered he had been weak in front of Minho too many times to count, and there was no need to add another.

There was a soft touch at his elbow, and Jisung turned to see Minho leveling him with an expectant stare.

_Fuck it._

Jisung sighed in defeat, drawing his knees up and hugging them. “Yeah, you are.”

Minho just nodded, waiting patiently. His eyes were so soft and open—it made Jisung want to cry a little bit, at how beautiful this part of Minho was. This part of Minho that he was showing to Jisung, because he cared about him.

Quickly squashing those thought before they got too far, Jisung focused on his response. “Um…it’s just that I’m nervous about what the school will do to us.”

Minho hummed in acknowledgement but didn’t say anything, seeming to know there was more coming.

Jisung twisted his hands together in his lap. “I’ve read that a lot of occupations end in mass arrests, because it’s illegal to take over private property.”

He closed his eyes briefly. “And—well. You know Younghyun was drafted. The only reason I’m not there with him is my scholarship at this school.”

He felt a gentle hand settle on his knee, and Jisung opened his eyes to see Minho was looking at him with wide eyes, glimmering with concern.

Jisung’s heart twisted at the sight, and he quickly looked back down at his lap. “I’m terrified that if I get arrested, I’ll lose my scholarship and have to be drafted. It’s…my worst fear, other than Younghyun getting—”

He cut himself off, unwilling to let the word out in the open.

_Killed._

“Anyways, that’s why I was so worried about the rally,” he continued. “Sorry for taking it out on you that time, by the way. I tried my hardest not to do that again, but…you still noticed, I guess.”

There was a beat of silence, and then—

“Jisung-ah, why didn’t you tell us? Tell me?” Minho whispered, his voice pained. “If I had known getting arrested would risk your scholarship…”

Jisung gave a humorless laugh. “What would that have done? Hyung, the rally and the occupation…we don’t do these things for fun. You know that better than anyone. Getting arrested is a risk we all have to be willing to take.”

Minho shook his head. “This is different. If I had known at the rally—”

“What would you have done?” Jisung cut him off, turning to catch Minho’s gaze.

Minho looked back at him, eyes alight with a familiar fire. “I would have protected you.”

Jisung’s heart stopped.

He broke their gaze, desperately scrambling for words as his mind went blank.

_I would have protected you._

“You did protect me,” Jisung found himself whispering. “Don’t you remember?”

Minho made a frustrated noise. “Yes, but…”

“It doesn’t matter now,” Jisung said quickly, working to keep his voice steady. “The rally is over, and everything turned out okay.”

Minho relented with a sigh. “Fine, you’re right…but thank you for telling me, Jisung. I’m glad I know now, before the occupation.”

Jisung kept his gaze down, willing his composure to return.

Fingers brushed at Jisung’s chin, and he felt his breath hitch as Minho gently tilted Jisung’s head up so their gazes met.

“If it goes wrong, I will find a way,” Minho said firmly, golden eyes setting every inch of Jisung on fire. “I promise I will get you out of there.”

Jisung couldn’t breathe, unable to look away from the flames in Minho’s gaze. His fingers lit sparks upon Jisung’s every nerve.

_God, you’re beautiful—_

He bit back the words before they could leave his tongue, instead just dipping his head in a careful nod. The movement nudged Minho’s fingers away, and Jisung immediately mourned the loss of his touch.

“Thank you, Minho-hyung,” Jisung murmured after a moment. “But I want you to know—I’ve come to terms with it. This is something I want to do, no matter the risk.”

Minho looked at him as if searching for something deep in Jisung’s eyes, and nodded after a moment. “I think I already knew that, somehow…you were ready to crumble before the rally, but now—this time is different.”

Jisung let out a deep breath. “I’m ready, this time.”

He turned to Minho and found the older boy looking at him with a mix of pride and…something like affection in his eyes. An affection Jisung only dared to hope was real.

“Yes, you are,” Minho murmured, hand coming up to tug Jisung against him. The younger boy let his weight rest against Minho’s side, familiar warmth seeping into his clothes as his head spun with Minho’s closeness.

“We both are.”

And they sat there, two boys on a roof in a country at war, looking at the stars.


	12. embers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bruh I hate writing actual plot I just want to make minsung stare shyly into each other’s eyes until they chicken out and insult each other to cover up their blushes! oh well, here’s a plotty plot chapter...it took me awhile, but I did it and I am proud! also I’m moving back to school next weekend so an update is unlikely, sorry yall ):

Jisung stared at the double doors in front of him, frozen.

The doors led to the student union building, and they would remain closed until Hyunjin and Seungmin managed to shut off the security cameras long enough for everyone to get inside. Students milled around him, their numbers growing rapidly.

Jisung didn’t glance around to see how many there were. He barely registered the cloudy sky, or the wet air that was heavy with tension and the promise of something to come.

He just stood there and looked at the doors that could change his life, heartbeat ringing in his ears.

Once Jisung walked through those doors, his future would split in two directions. Get arrested, lose his scholarship, and fight in a war he didn’t believe in—or not.

He had never thought much about surviving past college and the war. Maybe because he had never thought it would matter.

Suddenly, a shoulder brushed against Jisung and a warm hand slid into his own, gripping it firmly. The hand gave Jisung’s a reassuring squeeze.

Jisung looked up in surprise to see Minho beside him, the older boy looking at the doors ahead of them instead of acknowledging their intertwined hands. Jisung could see hunger in Minho’s eyes, the same burning desire that had dragged Jisung in with one glance all those weeks ago.

“We’re ready, Jisung-ah,” Minho said, his words quiet but laced with steel. “We are.”

He looked down to meet Jisung’s eyes, every inch of his being alight with anticipation. Jisung nodded at him, still a bit dazed from the feeling of Minho’s hand in his.

Minho’s eyes softened as they traveled over Jisung’s features, and he opened his mouth to say something—

The doors opened with a bang, sending a gasp through the crowd. Seungmin was standing behind them, glasses slightly askew and brown hair mussed. He grinned widely.

“The cameras are out. Let’s go!” he called.

The courtyard exploded with movement. Students poured towards the entrance in one massive wave, sweeping Minho and Jisung along with them. Jisung let himself be tugged along by Minho’s hand, grip tightening to make sure he didn’t lose the other.

And they walked through the doors together.

Minho kept tugging Jisung along as people crushed in around them on all sides, calling out orders on his way.

“Spread out and find a place to sit!” he yelled. “Don’t engage with anyone outside.”

He led Jisung to the stairwell and they ducked inside. Jisung let out a breath of relief, glad to escape from the feeling of being surrounded by so many people. He had never been good with crowds—they always made him feel slightly helpless, at the mercy of so many bodies.

He followed Minho up the stairs and in a jog down the hallway, before turning into the control room at the end. Seungmin and Hyunjin were in there already, next to the blinking security camera screens.

But instead of standing apart as expected, they were wrapped up in each other. Hyunjin’s arms were around Seungmin, Seungmin’s head bent to rest on Hyunjin’s shoulder, no space left between their bodies—

Jisung stepped backwards instinctively and stumbled into Minho, who caught him easily by the shoulders and steadied him before looking into the room.

“What the fuck?” Minho burst out.

Seungmin and Hyunjin sprang apart as if burned, whirling around to gape at Jisung and Minho with identical expressions of horror.

“We—were just—” Seungmin stammered.

“—Hugging!” Hyunjin finished, his voice two octaves higher than normal. “That’s all!”

“Why the hell were you hugging like… _that?”_ Jisung asked incredulously.

Both Seungmin and Hyunjin’s cheeks darkened.

“In celebration of getting the cameras out…” Seungmin muttered.

Minho looked at them with an unimpressed expression, one eyebrow raised. “You really couldn’t save that for after we get this occupation going?”

They looked away shamefacedly, and Minho sighed in exasperation even as amusement twitched at the corner of his lips.

“Whatever, lovebirds,” he said. “Let’s just get going.”

The four started down the hallway, only to run into Chan, Changbin, Jeongin, and Felix at the end, all four out of breath.

“All the other entrances are locked and blocked off,” Chan said at once.

Minho nodded. “Good. Now let’s get down there.”

The group raced back down the stairs to find the first floor teeming with students, some holding anti-war posters. They picked their way through a maze of stray limbs and satchels to end up directly in front of the double doors Jisung had watched for so long that morning.

They carved out a space large enough and situated themselves on the floor, the doors looming above them. Jisung drew in a shaky breath.

“Now we wait,” Minho said with a wink.

Jisung looked around, tuning out the chatter of the other students. It was funny to see how the eight of them had fallen into the same patterns they did in the chemistry classroom—Felix leaning against Changbin’s side as they murmured to each other quietly, Hyunjin and Seungmin checking over the security camera plans with Jeongin pointing out occasional things they’d missed, and Chan and Minho voicing occasional thoughts and plans to each other as they watched over everyone else.

And Jisung himself, pressed tight against Minho. The warmth of Minho’s thigh next to his as they sat together seemed to be the only thing keeping Jisung grounded. All his senses focused on the feeling of Minho next to him, and he was able to breathe at last.

They waited like that, eight boys and hundreds of others, eyes on the locked doors ahead of them.

An hour later, the doors shook violently.

The sudden clanging sent a gasp through the students, and Jisung felt his heart skip. Minho leaned away from him and stood up, and Jisung forced himself not to reach after Minho instinctively.

Minho walked up to the locked doors and loosened the chain enough to crack the door. A group of angry voices sounded from outside, and Minho regarded them calmly.

“Young man, what is the meaning of this?” shouted a woman.

“Thank you for asking. We are currently occupying the student union building in protest of the war, and specifically in protest of soldiers coming to our campus to recruit,” he answered smoothly.

“You can’t do that!” came another voice. “This is property of the university, not yours to take over.”

“We are students who pay money to this university to maintain this building, are we not?” Minho responded.

“Be reasonable, here,” said the first voice. “This doesn’t solve anything!”

Minho seemed to tense. “This seems to be the only avenue we have left to make you pay attention to your own student body,” he answered cuttingly. “Either you agree to not having soldiers recruit here, or we stay.”

“Like hell you will! We will force you out—this is illegal!” cried another.

“I would like to see you try,” Minho said, a smile spreading over his lips.

There was a splutter of outrage at that, and promises to come back soon with the dean. Minho only nodded and dragged the door tightly shut once more. He turned to face the students, every eye watching him carefully.

“Good work, everyone!” Minho said cheerily. “Like I reminded them, we are paying students—so there is a limit to what they can do. Just stay calm and we’ll be fine.”

There was a moment of silence, and then:

“What if they get in?” called one student near the back.

Minho shrugged. “Like I said, I would really love to see them try. We have every entrance locked and blocked off.”

There were no further questions after that, and Minho waited until the low chatter had resumed before sitting back down beside Jisung.

“How’d I do?” he murmured, shuffling close enough that their sides pressed together. “I was pretty nervous, but I did my best not to show it.”

“So well, hyung,” Jisung said earnestly, unable to help sounding more than a little awed. “Like…I couldn’t believe it! They were all yelling at you and you just answered so well. You looked like nothing in the world could bother you.”

Minho let out a relieved chuckle. “Thanks, Jisung-ah,” he said, reaching out to squeeze Jisung’s knee. His hand rested there for a few moments, burning through Jisung’s jeans until he finally took it away. Jisung mourned its loss immediately.

And the waiting began once more.

Jisung lost track of time quickly, so three hours or thirty minutes could have passed by the time the doors shook again. His heart skipped again, but he didn’t gasp the second time. Progress, at least.

Minho stood up and cracked the door like last time. “Hello, Dean Kim,” he said measuredly.

“Young man, this isn’t the way to voice your opposition to something,” the dean answered, tone dripping with condescension. “Why don’t you open these doors up and we have a real conversation?”

Minho chuckled humorlessly. “Thank you for the offer, but I can’t do that. Until you can promise me soldiers won’t be recruiting on our campus, these doors won’t be opening.”

“This is illegal!” the dean burst out. “If you don’t open these doors, we will have to take legal action.”

Minho was silent for a moment. Jisung held his breath as Minho’s eyes flickered to his and then away.

_Don’t back down,_ Jisung begged in his head. _Remember I told you that I’m ready._

Minho’s frame tensed. “Go ahead,” he answered lowly.

“What is your name?” the dean asked next, voice shrill with irritation.

Jisung bit his lip. If Minho’s parents found out about this…

He had no idea what would happen, but he couldn’t imagine it being good.

A dangerous grin spread over Minho’s face. “Lee Minho,” he said clearly, before promptly slamming the door shut.

Instead of addressing the crowd, Minho immediately sat back down beside Jisung. Whispers flew around the room, but Minho seemed to pay them no mind as his eyes locked on the doors in front of them.

“Why the hell did you tell them your real name?” Jisung hissed, annoyed with Minho’s disregard for caution but admittedly impressed with his bravery.

Minho shifted to look at him, eyes sharp. “I’m sick of pretending,” he answered after a moment. “They won’t find out for a while anyways.”

His brow furrowed. “We should be more worried about the legal action the dean was promising. I promised you…”

_I will find a way—_

“And I told you I know the risks,” Jisung finished firmly. “I’ll be fine.”

Minho sighed but didn’t argue, instead just drawing Jisung closer to him.

Time seemed to stretch languidly and speed along all at once, seconds lasting years and hours slipping away like sand. Jisung simultaneously felt like it had been a few decades and barely an hour when the sun finally began to set outside.

Chan had pressed rice balls into their hands at some point, and Jisung held the stray grains of rice cupped in one hand as he watched the sky bruise purple.

He wondered what the school admin could be doing, for them to not have been bothered this long. It was a relief, but also filled him with a sense of dread for what could be coming.

And then the doors shook a third time.

But this time, they nearly flew open from the force, hinges rattling in their frames.

A cry of surprise rang throughout the crowd, and Jisung felt Minho go rigid beside him.

The doors shook again, the noise echoing throughout the lobby.

“This is the police! This is your last chance to open the doors peacefully,” came a stern shout from outside the doors.

Jisung turned to look at Minho, but the older boy was already standing up.

“And if we don’t?” he called.

There was a moment of silence, and then: “If you don’t, you will be charged for aggravated trespassing on private property,” answered the stern voice.

Jisung felt his heart stop. Time seemed to freeze around him as he watched Minho look down to meet his eyes. Minho’s face tightened at whatever he found in Jisung’s features, and worry bloomed in his gaze.

He clenched his fists as he started towards the doors, and Jisung felt his chest tighten. Minho was going to open the doors—he could feel it.

“Wait, hyung!” the words left Jisung’s mouth before he could think them.

Minho turned to look at him, a mix of worry and pain lining the features of his face.

Jisung drew in a shaky breath. “Don’t open them,” he said softly, and then a second time, but louder. “Don’t open them, Minho-hyung.”

He realized with a start that the students around him were nodding.

“We can’t give up that easily,” called one, and there were noises of agreement.

Jisung turned to see Chan nod at Minho. “Let’s stick to it,” the oldest boy said.

Minho seemed torn for a moment, and he gave Jisung another worried glance—but determination set in his eyes again. He walked up to the doors, and called, “The doors will remain closed until the school promises not to have soldiers recruiting on our campus.”

A beat passed before the voice sounded again. “Alright, kid. So be it.”

And then the world shook.

Pounding sounded at every entrance at once, the banging ricocheting around the lobby in a rattling wave of noise. Jisung reached for Minho almost unconsciously, and the older boy grabbed his hand at once.

“They’re trying to break in!” Minho shouted over the din. “Everyone be prepared to run if they get in!”

“Run where?” screamed one student.

“Anywhere that isn’t where the cops are!” Minho yelled back, his hand clenching tightly around Jisung’s.

Jisung squeezed his hand back, and Minho whirled around to look at him, eyes searching Jisung’s features rapidly.

“I promised you safety,” Minho said wretchedly, the building shaking around them. “I _promised_ you—”

“You didn’t promise me safety,” Jisung responded, raising his voice to be heard over the noise. “You promised you would find a way out.”

“You’re right,” Minho admitted, looking away from Jisung to scan the lobby. “But they have us surrounded…I don’t know what to do, I didn’t think there would be this many. I didn’t think the cops would come this quickly.”

Even as the building shook around them, Jisung felt a strange smile tug at his lips. He tugged on Minho’s hand until the older boy focused on him again, and leaned up to whisper into his ear.

“I trust you. We’ll be okay,” he said, breathing in the cinnamon scent that was Minho. “And like I said, I’m prepared to face whatever is about to happen.”

Minho pulled away to give him a piercing look, one hand coming up to cup Jisung’s face. His touch was feather-light, as if Jisung were made of glass.

As if they weren’t standing on the precipice of their carefully built plans, seconds away from collapse.

“Jisung—” Minho started.

But before he could get any further, the front doors flew open.


	13. ashes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS IT Y'ALL! WE MADE IT! I can officially say this was the hardest fic for me to write so far, but every one of you reading and commenting encouragement kept me going. I appreciate everyone who spent this wild summer with me in this little world where minho wears leather jackets all the time (:

For one tremulous moment, everything was perfectly still.

And then all hell broke loose.

Cops started pouring into the building through the front doors. Screams and shouts shattered the stillness as the officers started yelling orders. Students ran in every direction, some getting stopped by cops and others making it to the staircase or an exit.

Jisung was nearly torn from Minho’s grasp as the crowd surged around them, and he clenched the older boy’s hand tighter. Minho was shouting orders for students to escape from one of the unguarded exits, but his voice was drowned out in the noise. The building shook as the other entrances started to break open.

“Minho!” Jisung cried, tugging at the older boy. “We have to get out of here!”

Minho turned to him with desperation shining in his eyes. “They’re going to get caught—we’re all going to get caught. There’s now we can all make it out.”

“We have to at least fucking try,” Jisung said fiercely. “Come on!”

Without waiting for an answer, he turned and tugged Minho in the direction of the staircase. If they could find a fire escape on the second floor, they might have a chance. He scanned the faces around him as they went, but rest of their group was nowhere to be seen.

Jisung could only pray the other six had made it out already.

But there were more and more cops pouring onto the first floor with every minute, and Jisung watched in horror as they started to circle around the perimeter of the space. All the exits were blocked off.

The students were being closed in.

Panic started to claw at his throat, and Jisung’s thin veneer of calm started to slip as he searched wildly for a way to get to the staircase. He glanced from wall to wall, heart pounding in his ears.

_Please let there be a way for us to get out, please—_

Minho’s hand was yanked from his grip.

Jisung whirled around to see a cop tugging Minho backwards and away from Jisung, securing Minho’s hands into a set of handcuffs. Minho wasn’t even resisting— _why isn’t he resisting, why_ —he just shouted something over and over, his eyes locked on Jisung’s.

_“Jisung, RUN!”_

Jisung staggered forwards instinctively, reaching for Minho. Time was slowing down again, tightening around his ankles and holding him back from getting closer. The screams around them faded to a dull hum.

_No, please not him—anything but him—_

Minho was shaking his head wildly at Jisung. “Run, goddamnit! Jisung, _run!”_

Jisung shook his head, his mind a blank of white panic. To be arrested—to lose his scholarship…the fear was eating him alive. But there was no way he could just leave Minho here, not after everything they’d been through.

Not after that night on the roof.

_I promise I will get you out of there—_

Jisung took a deep breath, standing perfectly still for one moment as chaos raged around him. Minho’s voice had taken on a desperate tinge as he kept begging Jisung to escape, but Jisung made no move to get away.

Jisung had said he was ready, hadn’t he? And that had been the truth.

He was ready for the horrors of the future. And the horrors of the present were made bearable only by Minho, and seven other boys, and a moonlit classroom where Jisung had learned how to laugh again.

He was ready to fight for that present.

And Jisung wouldn’t let himself run from the people he cared about, not this time.

So Jisung kept his eyes on Minho’s, and he didn’t look away. Even as an officer shouted in his ear, even as he felt rough hands on his wrists, even as the chill of handcuffs slithered over his skin—Jisung kept his gaze locked on Minho.

When he was finally dragged closer to Minho as the officers started rounding up those who had gotten caught, Jisung bent toward Minho with an impossible smile on his face.

“We’re in this together, idiot,” he said to the shock and pain on Minho’s face.

Minho seemed stunned for a moment, before he sighed in defeat. “You are fucking something, Han Jisung.”

The captured students were led out of the building in lines, hands behind their backs and locked tight into their cuffs. Most had stopped resisting, and Jisung was relieved to see not many other students had gotten arrested.

Police vans were sitting at the entrance, and officers directed students to crowd in together. Jisung was shoved in with the rest of them, and ended up a few students away from Minho in the van. He kept his eyes on Minho’s face, and took comfort in that as the vans roared to life.

It seemed unreal—here he was, getting arrested. His worst fear. Anxiety was skittering along his nerves, but he wasn’t out of his mind with panic. Jisung bit his lip, wondering if he was truly okay or if the shock just hadn’t set in yet.

It seemed like only minutes later when they were led out of the vans and into a low, plain branch of the campus police building that turned out to be full of holding cells. Jisung inched his way closer to Minho and breathed a sigh of relief when they were led into the same cell with five other students.

The space wasn’t too tight, but Jisung pressed up against Minho anyways as they sat down, a little desperate for any form of comfort. The older boy looked him over worriedly, hand skimming along Jisung’s thigh as if making sure he was in one piece.

“You alright?” Minho mouthed, and Jisung nodded hurriedly.

He looked around to see four other similar cells, five students in each of them. Jisung’s heart sank at the sight of Hyunjin and Seungmin in a nearby cell, their shoulders pressed against each other. Changbin was in a cell further away by himself, his gaze lowered.

Jisung ached to call out to them, but he was terrified of making everything worse.

One officer moved to stand in the center of the room. “You will be held here overnight, and the school will decide whether to press charges in the morning,” he announced. “If they do not press charges, you be allowed to leave then. If they do, you will either have to post bail or await the court decision here.”

Jisung’s chest twisted painfully, and he pressed himself even more tightly against Minho. If the school pressed charges, he knew they would be fucked. But even if they didn’t…Jisung had no idea what would happen.

He closed his eyes, sending a silent plea to the sky that they would somehow make it okay. Even though it was probably too late for that.

The officer turned away from them with an air of finality, and the students were left to look at one another with worry as one officer remained to stand guard. After a while, Jisung wasn’t aware of how much time was passing—only that he felt strangely calm, sitting there in a jail cell with Lee Minho.

It was so impossible that it was almost funny.

He kept an eye on Hyunjin, Seungmin, and Changbin, checking every so often to make sure the three were okay. It was lucky that Felix and Chan had made it out with Jeongin—Jisung knew none of them could bear it if Jeongin had gotten arrested.

Seungmin and Hyunjin were too far for him to call out to them, but…Seungmin’s head suddenly lifted from where it was resting on Hyunjin’s shoulder, and he met Jisung’s gaze.

Jisung widened his eyes, waving a bit and mouthing, “You okay?”

Seungmin seemed oddly exhausted, but he managed to give Jisung a smile and a nod. Hyunjin noticed Jisung and made a light hitting motion next to Seungmin’s head, his dark eyes wide with worry. He had one arm wrapped tightly around Seungmin's shoulders, supporting the other boy with his frame.

Jisung bit his lip, his chest aching. So Seungmin had hurt his head somehow. Inexplicable guilt welled up in Jisung, even though he knew he couldn’t have done anything. He mouthed an apology towards the two anyway, and was met with identical eye rolls.

He had to smile at that, before pointing to the cell next to them where Changbin was. He watched Hyunjin turn and call out quietly to Changbin, who lifted his head and nodded at Hyunjin with a faint smile. His eyes moved further until they met Jisung’s, and Jisung mouthed, “You okay?”

Changbin gave him a thumbs up and a wink, to which Jisung scrunched his nose. 

Satisfied, he turned around to lean against Minho again.

“Everyone okay?” Minho asked him lowly.

Jisung nodded. “Yeah, looks like Jeongin made it out with Chan and Felix. I’m glad.”

“God, me too,” Minho said with a sigh. He was silent for a moment, and then: “Jisung.”

Jisung glanced up to see Minho looking down at him.

Minho’s eyes were dark and somber, his mouth twisted downwards. “I’m sorry, Jisung-ah. I promised you that I would keep you safe. I promised I wouldn’t let you get arrested…I’m just so sorry.”

Jisung shook his head, the sight of Minho’s pained expression tugging at his heart. “Don’t apologize, to me or anyone. You did everything you could…none of this is your fault. I don’t blame you at all, Minho-hyung.”

Minho scoffed, looking away to run a hand through his hair. The dim light of the cell cast his face in half-shadows. “Not my fault? Jisung, c’mon…I did this.”

He gestured to the students around them in the cells. “All these people are in jail because of me, and what can I do for them? Nothing.”

Jisung furrowed his brow, a spark of anger lighting his chest. “Hyung, these people are here because they chose to protest along with us. No one was forced to occupy that building. You’re not the only one who will do anything for change, you know.”

He turned his nose up in faux haughtiness. “Don’t go thinking you’re all important, Minho-hyung.”

This got an exasperated chuckle out of Minho. “You can never let me be, huh? Can’t I be all self-loathing and pitiful for once?”

Jisung shook his head. “Nope. I’m not letting our first time getting arrested together be ruined because of your attitude.”

Minho laughed quietly. “First time getting arrested together? You make it sound almost romantic.”

Jisung blushed hotly at that, and he turned away with a scoff as he scrambled for a response. “Whatever makes you feel better, Minho-hyung.”

A warm hand slid into his, and Jisung looked up to see Minho’s gaze was fixed on their intertwined hands. It was incredibly reassuring, feeling the contours of Minho’s skin against his.

“Hey, you know how we hated each other at first?” Minho asked, quiet amusement coloring his voice.

“We did not!” Jisung said indignantly, before he looked away sheepishly. “Okay…maybe I thought you were kind of rude.”

“And I thought you were an argumentative prick,” Minho responded lightly.

Jisung scowled at him, but Minho only laughed. “Don’t worry, I realized you weren’t really a prick after we managed to have an actual conversation. You’re argumentative, sure, but you make me laugh more than anyone else. And I realized, after a while…hating you wasn’t worth it.”

Jisung looked up to see Minho’s gaze was tracing slowly over his face, a soft warmth glimmering in his eyes.

“There’s just no point in hating someone you care about…and I mean really care about,” Minho whispered.

Jisung’s breath hitched, and he felt himself tip closer to Minho. A slow warmth spread through his chest and poured into his blood, and the world fell away…until all he could see was the fire in Minho’s eyes.

“Care about…how?” Jisung breathed, hardly daring to form the words.

Minho raised a gentle hand to cup Jisung’s face. “Like this.”

Minho bent his head to bring their lips together, at first a featherlight brush—before they pressed into each other again, more insistent this time. Jisung’s eyes slipped shut and every nerve in his body focused on the burning feeling of Minho’s mouth on his. 

Minho tasted like fire and honey, like a whispered promise. Like the warmth that had been blooming in Jisung’s chest since the first time Minho had walked him home.

Jisung was addicted to his taste at once.

Their mouths moved together in a delicious harmony that left Jisung trembling, and Minho’s hand cupped Jisung’s nape to hold him steady. Jisung reached up a tentative hand to tangle into the burnt gold strands of Minho’s hair, anchoring himself with the soft touch.

Minho pulled away with a soft exhale, and Jisung kept his eyes closed as a helpless smile spread over his face. Minho’s arms were still wrapped around him securely, and he basked in the older boy’s warmth.

“I can’t believe our first kiss was in a jail cell,” came Minho’s low voice, and Jisung couldn’t hold back a laugh at that.

He opened his eyes to see Minho staring back at him fondly. One hand came up to caress Jisung’s cheek lightly, and Jisung leaned into the soft touch.

“Well, Jisung-ah?” Minho whispered with a hint of a smirk. “Anything to say to that?”

There was a beat, and then: “Can we do that again?” Jisung asked, only a little ashamed of how breathy his voice was.

Minho grinned. “I suppose I could be convinced.”

Jisung wrinkled his nose at Minho, a smile still on his lips. He wanted Minho to kiss it away more than anything.

“I…care about you, too,” Jisung said at last, wincing a little at the tremor of his own voice.

Minho pressed a kiss to Jisung’s forehead, then both of his cheeks, and finally the tip of his nose. “Good enough for me.”

His lips drifted back down to Jisung’s, and Jisung let himself be consumed by their taste once more.

And as he kissed Minho in a jail cell, Jisung thought giddily that this—at last—was anything but him running away. This wasn’t Jisung failing at staying away from Minho. This wasn’t Jisung, afraid of the world and himself.

This was Jisung, running straight towards the wildfire that was Lee Minho, and falling into him headfirst. This was Jisung, fighting for what he believed in.

This was Jisung, finally fearless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fucking love you all! thank you for reading my crazy shit! we have fun, don’t we?? lol okay also 3 things:  
> 1\. yes I know jail cells actually have extremely bright lighting most of the time but I do not care  
> 2\. I left a lot of ends loose bc jisung’s arc is actually the main plot, so the climax of his character development was the best place to end it imo. also bc I want y’all to come away with your own ideas of what happens next in their little universe. does jisung lose his scholarship? does younghyun survive the war and get to come home? will seungjin and changlix get their shit together? you decide!  
> 3\. I wanted to give Jisung a realistic arc in this fic where he starts with feelings of powerlessness and anxiety, but is able to work through those over time through taking action (and Minho is deeply tied to that action). I hope that provides a bit of hope for everyone fighting for change rn (not saying there is one easy solution to anxiety or societal issues lol this is merely a kpop fanfic) so idk just food for thought. I love talking about this stuff with y’all so tell me what you thought of that  
> also lmk if you want an epilogue? idk I wouldn’t be opposed


End file.
